Thorns of an English Rose
by Mystic Lady Fae
Summary: Pride and Prejudice mix: Heartbroken and angry, Erik Laurent goes to visit his old friend, Mr. Darcy, in London. There he meets Annabelle Woodworth, Darcy's unmarried cousin. Sparks fly, though not in a good way...at least at first...
1. In Need of a Husband

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Erik or anything Jane Austen. They all belong to…well, Jane Austen, and Erik belongs to Leroux, ALW, and a few others. Only original characters/places are mine.

AN: Okay, here we go, another story! I hope that I can do justice to Jane Austen, her stories, and Regency England. I'd also like everyone to note that I'm using the characters from the 1995 version of P&P, meaning Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth, who are my favorite Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy. Please be kind and leave a review of what you think! Thanks!

**Chapter 1: In Need of a Husband**:

For longer than I can remember, my mother always talked about my possibly marrying an aristocrat of England or a man of great fortune. Either one would do, for I had fifty thousand pounds as an enticement for any suitor. Such a dowry would easily set up even the poorest English lord for life, and elevate me into higher social circles than the ones my own upper-class family already enjoyed.

"But if she is not taken by a man of title, then a man in possession of a fine fortune and of good family will do as well," she told my father.

As a second option for me, Mama felt that a man of great wealth, combined with my family and social connections, would provide good dowries and bring excellent marriage matches for any of her future grandchildren. However, a great title is far more difficult to come by, and so my dear Mama decided that it would be best for me to marry someone of the nobility, if one should make an offer for me.

Papa, however, always secretly told me to marry for love. "Many marriages are made with the desire for wealth and titles, and hardly any affection," he said whenever Mama wasn't there to hear. "I would much rather you wed someone you can love, respect, and who can make you smile on the darkest of days. Besides, the inheritance you and your husband will get upon marriage will set you up quite well, and if the worst should happen, you may always write me for money and protection."

As you can see, my father doted on me, his only daughter, as much as he did my younger brother, Nathaniel, who was the heir to our estate and all it's income. Unlike some brothers and sisters in our social standing, Nathaniel and I were close, and there was no jealousy between us, even though it would be my right to be angry and jealous of him.

Since the day of his birth, I had been told that Nathaniel would get everything that belonged to my family, and I would be left with nothing but a small income to live on, should I not marry by the day of my father's death (God forbid). Thus, my mother's desire to see me wed before that terrible day she became a widow and dependant on her son's good will. Nathaniel, of course, secretly swore that he would never turn me out of the house or leave me destitute; he loved me too much for that.

"Besides, there is more than enough room here to shelter you, and I would happily provide for you and our mother," he said once, just after Mama had again told us of our possible fates. "We are surely rich enough for that!"

My brother was right, of course. Ours was a wealthy family, for both out parents came from great and respectable noble lines. I had seen our family tree once in a book in our library, a great list of names leading down to my father, Robert Woodworth, and my mother, Catherine. Papa's family dated back to William the Conqueror, though the wealth came from Henry VIII, who had been quite free at handing out gifts to his friends. Thanks to many good investments and excellent marriages, the wealth was still intact to this day.

Mama was descended from a great line as well, and just as old, though they were not so rich –actually, they were not even English. Despite her black hair, black eyes and clear complexion, it was easy to see that my mother, Catherine Woodworth, was not the usual English lady. Her family had come to England with Catherine of Aragon, the Spanish princess who eventually became the first wife of Henry VIII. Instead of returning to Spain once their princess had been delivered to England, my mother's ancestors had remained and intermarried with the English. To this day, a trace of exoticness can be seen in eyes and face of Mama's family, for on a very rare occasion, a Spanish bride or groom had been sent to England to marry one of the family's children.

I sometimes think that it was my mother's beauty that had attracted my father, though he said it was her wit. I still believe it was the former, rather than the latter.

Like my mother, I managed to inherit some of that exotic Spanish look – my face had a touch of olive coloring from a Spanish ancestor, and my features were dark brown eyes uniquely shaped like almonds, as well as the distinctive curves that a Spanish woman traditionally bore. Even my hair was reminiscent of Catherine of Aragon, for we both had locks of a dark auburn that looked almost brown.

Poor Papa, fair of hair, eyes, and skin, had passed no traits on to me, nor to my brother, who was as dark in hair and eyes as I, though he did have the legendary Woodworth nose. I always teased him about using that great nose of his to plow the fields around our estate. Nathaniel, the good person that he was, took it all in good humor and was more than happy to tease me back.

However, none of the closeness I shared with my father and brother could save me from my mother's wrath of my still being unmarried at age 25. She considered me a spinster, though society would not officially be able to call me that until I was aged 30. I had to admit, though, that my mother was right to worry as all mothers do: I had been out in society since I was seventeen-years-old, and had yet to attract a husband. By society's standards, any woman not married after two or three social seasons in London was considered a failure, and it would be best for the poor girl to become a nun or remain a burden on her unfortunate family.

Today, Mother was worrying over the matter as she usually did. She had come into the dining room all aflutter and bemoaning my fate as an old maid. Father had merely rolled his eyes good-naturedly and gone back to eating his supper. Nathaniel gave me a sympathetic look and took a drink of water.

"Eight years since she's been out!" Mama exclaimed in a shrill voice, the one she always used when she was worried or horrified. Today, she was both. "Eight years and for nothing! Fifty thousand pounds, good looks, and from a good family, and what do we have to show for it? Nothing!"

Papa set down his fork and wiped his mouth. "My dear, Annabelle had only been to London for two seasons," he calmly reminded his wife. "That was on your request, as we may both recall, and as for the others, she has either been in Derbyshire or here at home, attending balls and assemblies as she is required. It is hardly Anna's fault that you removed her from London before she was able to find the husband you so long for her to have."

That is my name, you know. Annabelle Woodworth, eldest daughter of Lord and Lady Woodworth of Huntington Hall, and distant relation to many of the great families in England. Mama is especially proud of our connection to the great Darcy family, and if she had her way, I would be married to one of our relations of that clan. However, I have spent far too many summers with the Darcy cousins I have, and therefore know all of their faults. Being a Darcy is not in my future.

"My dear, we must do something," Mother declared in her most authoritative voice.

Father, now knowing that he would not be returning to his supper until Mama was satisfied, sat back in his chair. "And what would you have me do, my love?" he asked, looking completely at ease. "Derbyshire did not produce a husband for her, and neither has any of the local balls or assemblies."

"We should send her to London." That was Mama's way of saying that she would not be argued with. "She may stay with my brother James and his wife."

A look of skepticism crossed Papa's face. He probably remembered, where as Mama did not, that my uncle, Sir James Cartwright, had two small children of his own, and that his house would not be holding any sociable events in the foreseeable future. His wife, Josephine, would be unable to escort me around to all of the balls and gatherings in town, for she was a sickly creature who disliked the public and preferred to stay home with her children and doting maids.

Papa also likely remembered that I despised visiting there, never mind actually staying there for weeks on end.

"Dearest, James has two small children, hardly good company for Anna, and Josephine is not able to provide herself as a chaperone to our daughter," Father said gently.

Mama waved that aside. "My sister, Sophia, lives with them now," she said. "I've had a letter from her last week, saying that she has quit the place she has shared with our sister Nora and offered her help to James in raising the children."

I stared down at my lap. Aunt Sophia had a way of criticizing me as much as Mother did, and staying with her in the same house as my uncle would only make things worse.

"Perhaps she could go visit Fitzwilliam Darcy instead," Papa suggested. "If not in Derbyshire, then perhaps in London. He has a house in town, and at a good location in the heart of society."

At the sound of Fitzwilliam's name, I looked up. He and I were close, though we were not closely related, but through my father, we were closer to the Pemberley Darcy's than anyone else.

* * *

Papa had been a dear friend to the late Mr. Darcy, Fitzwilliam's father, and they had gone to school and to college together, remaining close friends until the elder Mr. Darcy's death. So, up until the death of his friend and relation, Papa had often taken our family to visit the Darcy estate of Pemberley. 

My first meeting with Fitzwilliam when he was ten-years-old and I barely seven. Papa had decided to take the long journey to Pemberley and bring me along with him, leaving my mother to care for my toddling brother. I had liked Mr. Darcy very much, although his son had thought it below him to play with a girl three years his junior. The fact that I was too young to pronounce the name 'Fitzwilliam' correctly did me no favors with him, since I called him 'Fitz' until my tongue was trained well enough to say his first name. For this, he rather disliked me for a time, and always abruptly called "Miss Woodworth" whenever he was forced to address me.

Thankfully, my chance for redeeming myself arrived three years later, when the elder Mr. Darcy asked if Papa and I would join him and his family at Rosings Park, home of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Lady Catherine was the sister of Mrs. Darcy, and had asked for them to visit Rosings and to invite any sort of companions that they wished. Papa accepted his friend's invitation, and the two of us traveled to Rosings as soon as we were able. There I met the arrogant Lady Catherine and her sickly daughter, Anne.

"Anne is a wonderful name, though I wonder at your daughter being called Annabelle," Lady Catherine had told my father after we had all settled in the parlor for afternoon tea. "It truly is an odd name to give a child."

Father gave me a fond smile, which I returned. "My wife, also called Catherine, was rather fond of the name Anna, but wanted our firstborn to have a unique name, so we decided on Annabelle. It suits her rather well, we think."

"Does your daughter play or sing, Mr. Woodworth?" Lady Catherine asked, giving me a criticizing glance. "My own daughter, Anne, would be most proficient in both, if her health permitted her to be."

"Annabelle plays, though not so well as her mother would like," Papa replied carefully. In truth, I played neither well nor ill, but passably enough to entertain company for a time, though my singing was nonexistent.

Lady Catherine focused her arrogant, hard gaze at me. "Will you play for us, Miss Woodworth?"

It was more of a demand than a request, so with all the grace and dignity my ten-year-old self could muster, I rose from my seat beside my father and curtseyed politely before going to the piano at the far side of the room, taking a seat on the cushioned bench as I placed my fingers on the keys. I was about to begin a short song when I heard the sound of stiff footsteps approaching, and looked up. There stood Fitzwilliam Darcy, looking uncomfortable and frustrated as he took a place beside me.

"My father wished for me to stand here so that you did not catch a draft from the windows," he said awkwardly, brown eyes serious beneath a mass of equally dark hair.

I smiled and began to play. "That is most kind of you, Mr. Darcy," I said in a light, teasing voice. "It might be of comfort to you that I am now able to pronounce your first name of Fitzwilliam, if I may be permitted to do so."

He looked at me in surprise, then gifted me with a small smile. Apparently his temper had improved since last we met. "You may, though I would prefer it if you were to call me Darcy while we were here. My cousin's surname is Fitzwilliam, you see, and it tends to cause confusion in the family. But at Pemberley, you may call me by my Christian name."

"If you wish," I acquiesced, my fingers gliding across the keys.

"And would you allow me to call you Annabelle?" he asked.

"Oh, Annabelle is such a formal name. My mother and father call me Anna; you may call me that, if you'd like."

Fitzwilliam then turned to look at the silent, pale Anne de Bourgh, sitting on a small couch with her caregiver Mrs. Jenkins, and frowned. "Perhaps it would be best if I called you Belle. I would not want to cause another state of confusion between two households by calling two young ladies by the same name."

Laughing, I finished the song with a flourish, my audience clapping politely when they realized I was done. "Will you play again?" my new friend asked. "Perhaps something more lively?"

"Do you mean for me to try and lighten the air of the room?" I whispered with a grin. He rewarded me with a conspiratorial smile, which I happily returned as I launched into a light country song that was meant to be danced to. We both laughed as I finished with a flourish, which seemed to catch the attention of our elders.

"What is so amusing? I must know," Lady Catherine demanded.

Darcy assisted me off the bench and escorted me back to my father. "It is nothing, Aunt," he said, solemn once more. "Merely a bit of childish amusement in a song."

Lady Catherine sniffed and returned to her conversation with her sister while her brother-in-law spoke with my father. Free of the intent gaze of our hostess, Darcy turned towards me.

"I hope that when next you visit Pemberley, you will do me the honor of meeting my sister, Georgiana," he said politely. "She is just two-years-old, but will be older when you meet, and I would like you to be a friend to her, light-hearted girl that she is."

I was flattered, to say the least. "It would be an honor."

* * *

From that day forward, we were firm friends. My family was often at Pemberley, and so I spent many happy months in Derbyshire over the years, enjoying the delights it had to offer. There my days were filled with picnics, horseback riding, parties, games, and visits to Lambton, the town but five miles away. When we were permitted to go out on our own, Fitzwilliam and I spent most of our time together talking about our younger siblings, our families, or about nothing at all, merely enjoying each other's company. 

Unfortunately, not all of my time there was pleasant, though I did my best to make them so. When Mrs. Darcy died of a sudden illness, my father, concerned about his dear friend's welfare and that of his children, had brought our family to try and console the grief-stricken Darcys. Out of worry for Fitzwilliam, I did my best to help him recover from his mother's death, offering comfort when it was needed and distracting him with some of his favorite games or pastimes.

In the visits that followed the death of Mrs. Darcy, a small shadow of gloom seemed to settle over not merely Pemberley, but inside of Fitzwilliam as well. Although he never showed anything but kindness to me, he was rather cold and indifferent to others. I suppose that after loosing his mother, a person so close to him, and at such a young age, he felt it better to hide his true feelings from all but those exceptional few he held dear. I felt honored to be counted as a friend of value.

The few times I was able to see her before she was sent off to school, I also became a friend to Georgiana, the sweet younger sister of Fitzwilliam. Even though she was ten years younger than her brother, it was clear that Georgiana was the apple of both her father and her brother's eye, and that a very strong bond of love was shared between the three. It nearly broke her heart when her father died just short of her eleventh birthday, but thankfully she had Fitzwilliam there to help with her sorrow.

The only difficulty with being such a good friend of the Darcys of Pemberley is that my mother had hoped that I would one day be mistress of that grand estate. However, such a match was not thought of between myself and Fitzwilliam, nor by our fathers. Papa and the late Mr. and Mrs. Darcy had thought their son and I to be too close of friends to end up marrying, though such a union might have occurred if it had been spoken of by our two families.

As it was, my mother was left to disappointment when no offers were made for me by Mr. Darcy when I came to the age to wed. Of course, by the time my "coming out" into society occurred, Fitzwilliam was thoroughly involved in his studies at Cambridge and was uninterested in London and society, so Mama had abandoned the idea and focused her hopes on finding a suitable match in town. Obviously, Mama was still upset over her decision.

"No, it will do Anna no good to go to the Darcy home, for he will likely be out of the country for the next few weeks," she said woefully. "I've just read in the papers that Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy is married to a Miss Elizabeth Bennett, who, I might add, is from a family of no importance, wealth or consequence."

"Mama!" I gasped. "That is no way to speak of the new Mrs. Darcy! Fitzwilliam must love her very much to have married her; he would never have wed her otherwise."

"He would never had married her at all if you had but spoke of marriage to him in the first place!" Mother snapped.

Across from me, Nathaniel winked at me, the corner of his mouth quirking up into an amused smile –thankfully, it was the corner facing away from our mother, so she did not see. I glared at him, feeling jealous that my brother would never have to go through this. Nathaniel would be free to marry anyone he chose, as long as she was of a good family or had a fortune, and it did not matter how old he was when he married –after all, men of thirty or forty years of age wedded young ladies without raising a fuss in society.

"Well, it's too late for that now," Father said, finishing off his supper with a last drink of wine. "But I do think it would be good to stay with the Darcys for a while, if only to meet the new Mrs. Darcy and see if young Georgiana is doing well."

"She might even see Mr. Bingley," Nathaniel put in, apparently trying to cheer her.

Mr. Bingley was Fitzwilliam's oldest friend, and a very agreeable man. I had met him at Pemberley on a few occasions, and liked him immensely for his pleasantness and good humor. Mama had heard last summer about his five thousand pounds a year, and had thought him a suitable match for me as well, until she met his sisters.

"No, Mr. Bingley has just married a Miss Jane Bennett, who is apparently the elder sister to Elizabeth Bennett," Mama said, frowning. "Honestly, how many Bennett girls can there possibly be in that family? Why, just a few months ago I saw that a Lydia Bennett had married a George Wickham." She huffed in annoyance.

I frowned and took a drink of my water. George Wickham was the son of the late Mr. Darcy's steward, and though both Mr. Wickham and his son had been well-thought of by the elder Mr. Darcy, the young man had turned out rather wild. I had not met Mr. Wickham until long after my first visit to Rosings Park, and did not like him at all; he had attempted to flirt with me many times, but I was not naïve to fall for his flattery. He had been a friend of Fitzwilliam, but I knew that they had grown apart over the years, the gap between them widening after that whole situation with Wickham attempting to elope with Georgiana and steal her fortune. I had expected the two men to meet for a pistol duel, but Darcy was too good a man to shoot someone for any reason, and if he had been harmed or killed in the duel, who would take care of poor Georgiana?

'_At least Wickham has found himself a wife_,' I thought, sitting back so that dessert could be served. '_But why would he choose a girl with no money_? _I remember that Wickham dearly wanted a rich wife to fund his gambling and spending debts_.' I would have to ask Fitzwilliam, the next time I wrote.

"No, staying with Mr. and Mrs. Darcy is out of the question." My mother's voice broke my thoughts. "Anna will stay with my brother James, and that is the end of it."

I honestly didn't think that my going into society at age 25 was going to change much, but my mother would not leave me a moment's peace if I did not go and do as I was told. Fortunately, I had the benefit of friends living in London, which would allow me places to escape to when I grew tired of my uncle's home.

Holding back a sigh, I finished my lemon ice as I thought of which dresses I would be taking with me, and how many I would have to buy once I got there.

* * *

AN: Lots of info in this chapter, though I hope it wasn't too boring. Please leave a review and let me know what you thought! Thanks! 


	2. London

Disclaimer: I wish that I owned dear Erik and all things _**Pride and Prejudice**_, but those characters already belong to someone else, and so are not mine. Only original people/places/things are mine.

AN: Here's chapter two! Sorry, but Erik won't appear until the next chapter, so hang in there! Please let me know what you think of the story and if I need to add anything (besides Erik). Thanks!

**Chapter 2: London**:

The carriage ride to London would have been long and dull had it not been for my maid accompanying me. Sarah Ellis was twenty years old, five years younger than I, but had been well-trained for the position of a lady's maid –she was educated in everything from how to properly fold lady's gowns to pinning up hair in a stylish fashion. She was also very entertaining, and could talk like mad to keep me amused for hours on end; this I was thankful for, as reading in a moving carriage tended to make me very ill indeed.

We finally arrived four days after we had left Huntington Hall. The inns we had stayed at were, of course, some of the best, but I was still tired and hungry when the carriage pulled in front of my uncle's large house just before luncheon. I was quickly whisked out of the carriage by Ellis, and then shown upstairs to my room by the housekeeper. To my relief, I was allowed a few hours to wash, change, eat, and rest before going to greet my uncle. After a filling meal and a small doze, I felt ready to face my family.

Wearing a day dress of white muslin trimmed with pink lace, along with a pink sash around my waist, I walked downstairs to the enormous white drawing room. A little blue trim added a bit of color, as did the golden-yellow marble that made up the pillars, but despite the elegant furniture and fine carvings engraved into the white plaster, I almost winced at the stark, intimidating look of the walls.

"Annabelle, my dear niece, it is good to see you," Uncle James said, holding his hand out in a welcoming gesture. I took his hand and curtsied to him and then to the rest of my family who sat or stood nearby.

It was unusual that Uncle was home at this time of day, but then, I did not come here often, so perhaps he felt obliged to stay and greet me. Aunt Josephine was there as well, seated in the center of the couch, a blue shawl wrapped around her shoulders to ward off any chills. Her seven-year-old son, Christopher, and her five-year-old daughter Samantha sat on either side of her. They were quite the handsome family, all with black hair, black eyes, and porcelain skin, though Aunt Josephine was pale due to her perpetual state of illness, and always appeared sickly-looking.

Off to the side was Aunt Sophia, her jaw firmly set in a disapproving frown. She had left the comfortable home in the country she had shared with her sister, my beloved Aunt Nora, and come here to help look after her brother's young children. Aunt Nora and Aunt Sophia were both unwed, but were both provided for by my other uncle, John, who was the current Lord Cartwright, now that Grandfather was gone, but he did his duty as a good brother and son, also providing a good living for his mother, my dear Grandmama. However, Uncle John was childless, leaving his younger brother, James, as the heir to the Cartwright fortune in the event of his untimely death. This might be why Aunt Sophia was here: to remain in the good graces of both her brothers, should the worst happen to one of them –after all, my cousin Christopher was third in line for the family fortunes, and would not forget the kindly aunt who had helped raise him from childhood.

"Anna, it is good to see you," Aunt Josephine greeted me, a soft smile on her lips. "I trust your parents and brother are well?"

"Yes, Aunt, they are very well," I replied, offering her a true smile instead of the polite one I normally gave to my mother's family.

I truly loved my Aunt Josephine, though I rarely saw her, as she was usually in her room feeling ill or had the headache. However, she was gentle and kind, and when she was feeling well enough, the two of us sat and talked about books or clothes until she felt tired and wished to rest. My Uncle and Aunt Sophia were another matter.

"I hope you will be on your best behavior while you are here," Aunt Sophia said, black eyes studying me intensely as she took in my clothes and hairstyle with a slightly envious gaze.

Putting in place the polite face that my governesses had enforced upon me, I merely nodded politely and meekly muttered, "Of course, Aunt."

Aunt Sophia merely sniffed disdainfully and kept quiet, lest she say more than was necessary in front of her patron. I remembered that Papa always told me that Grandfather Cartwright had overindulged his two younger daughters, Sophia and Nora, allowing them to travel through Europe with him when they should have been in London during the social season. When they were younger, my aunts had been beauties and would have had no trouble finding a suitor who liked to travel as much as they did and would take them anywhere in the world they cared to go.

However, that was not to be; Grandfather had kept them out of society at the worst time, and as such, the two eldest Cartwright daughters, my mama and Aunt Bethany, had long since wedded and born children. By the time they had returned to England, poor Aunt Sophia and Aunt Nora were deemed far too old to wed, and now both had to resign themselves to depend on my Uncle John for their livelihoods, including shelter, food, and clothing, all of which were required to be modestly done. This might be why Aunt Sophia was envious of my gown, as it was new and of the latest fashion.

But now I was required to do as I was taught: to be polite to my family and to pretend that I would do as I was told, though Ellis would help me act otherwise whenever the strictness of Aunt Sophia became far too overwhelming for me.

"I thank you for the lovely bedroom, Aunt Josephine," I said, keeping my smile in place.

She smiled at me in return. "I remembered that blue is your favorite color. I am glad that it is of a style and color you prefer."

Uncle cleared his throat. "A messenger arrived for you a day or two ago from Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy," he said. "Apparently he is in town with his new bride and likely wishes to see you, as you are a long-time friend of his."

Aunt Sophia scowled even further. "I don't understand how Mr. Darcy would prefer a country gentleman's daughter with a mere fifty pounds a year to our dear Annabelle," she declared. "The two have been friends for nearly their whole lives, and I know my dear sister, Catherine, was set upon Annabelle wedding into the Darcy family."

"But Darcy has over ten thousand a year; he is rich enough to marry whomever he wishes, if he decided to marry for love instead of wealth," Aunt Josephine replied calmly.

"Especially when it was rumored that he was betrothed to Miss Anne de Bourgh from the cradle," Uncle put in. "A union between Rosings Park and Pemberley would have been a great match indeed, and would most certainly have pleased Lady Catherine de Bourgh to no end."

I almost smiled as Aunt Sophia sniffed and kept silent on the matter; no doubt the subject would be much talked of again in the future.

A brief knock on the door was followed by the entrance of a butler bearing a silver tray and an envelope sealed in red wax. I was shocked when the letter was offered to me and not to my uncle. Everyone in the room was quiet as I slowly lifted the letter from the tray and looked at the writing upon the front. The butler bowed and left, closing the door behind him.

"Well, who is it from?" pressed Aunt Sophia, rising from her chair to approach and glance at the note in my hand. "I do not recognize the writing. Let me see it."

I whisked the message away before she could reach her hand for it. "If you will excuse me," I said, curtsying. Uncle nodded his head and I was free to go read the letter in peace, though the sound of my uncle's voice gently chastising Aunt Sophia's conduct followed me to the foot of the stairwell.

Ellis was surprised to see me so soon. "Are they finished with you already, Miss Woodworth?" she asked. "I didn't expect you to have been released from their clutches so soon."

Barely holding back a laugh, I instead gave my maid a smile, which she slyly returned. Oh, yes, Ellis knew how frustrating life would be for me now, having to live with Uncle James and his family, as well as Aunt Sophia. Although he genuinely cared for me, the daughter of his eldest sister, Uncle James had little time to devote to my being displayed in society, which would leave me in the hands of Aunt Sophia, who would be responsible for accompanying me to balls, parties, teas, and other public outings. It should have been Aunt Josephine's task, as she was my uncle's wife, as well as my hostess and lady guardian while I was in town, but since her health was so delicate, it was rare for her to leave the house for something longer than a brief walk down the street. Thus, I would be forced into the strict hands of my mother's younger sister.

"Is that a note for you, Miss Belle?" Ellis asked as she tucked away my gowns. "You had better read it quickly; it might be from someone important." That was usually her hint that the message could be from one of my family members, or a close friend. In this case, it was the latter.

Fitzwilliam Darcy had sent a short note saying that he was in town and that he would be delighted and honored if he could introduce me to the new Mrs. Darcy tomorrow at eleven o'clock in the morning. I was smiling at the brief politeness of it, but understood that he could ill afford to be any kinder in his letter, lest his wife happen upon it and believe Darcy to be fonder of me than of his bride.

After reading the message, I sat down at the small desk in my room and began penning a reply, saying I would be most happy to meet Mrs. Darcy and would arrive at his home in Grover Street at the allotted time. The message was addressed, sealed with wax and sent on its way within the hour. All I would have to do was wait until tomorrow.

* * *

My afternoon was spent writing letters to my father, mother and brother, saying that I had arrived in safety and was tired, but otherwise quite well. I smiled as I wrote, for I knew that Mama was prone to worrying about whether I had been attacked by robbers or worse, kidnapped in some strange plot against my father. Papa said that Mama read too many novels, but that a letter from me would set them both at ease about my arriving safely.

To my relief, dinner with my uncle's family was a quiet affair. The little ones were upstairs with their nurse and governess, so it was merely four adults seated at the large dinner table, eating and speaking of nothing of consequence. I would have preferred supper in my room, but Aunt Sophia had insisted that I join them, and I could hardly refuse when Aunt Josephine asked it as well. Still, I could hardly wait for the night to be over, and so, claiming exhaustion from my travels, I went to the haven of my room and allowed Ellis to help me into bed. I didn't even remember falling asleep, so I was surprised to be immediately awoken by the curtains of the bed being parted, letting in the bright spring sunshine.

"Up you go, Miss!" Ellis quipped in her cheerful voice. "Once you've had breakfast, we'll pick a nice walking dress for your visit to the Darcy's and be on our way. Which one would you like to wear today?"

From the comfort of my bed, I chose a white muslin dress with a short, brown Spencer jacket and a brown bonnet trimmed with gold ribbons. I debated on whether or not I would take my reticule, and decided it was likely necessary. Ellis was already in her usual brown dress, a matching bonnet handy for when we were to leave.

"Let me bring you breakfast, ma'am, and when you're finished, we may leave before your aunts awaken. We're lucky that Mr. Cartwright has already gone to visit a few friends in town."

I ate quickly, and as Ellis whisked away the dishes, I dressed and donned my bonnet before taking up my reticule. We were quiet as mice as we walked out of the house and into the already bustling streets of London.

London was so different from home; it was much noisier and the air was filled with the scents of horses, cooking or cooked food, perfume from passing ladies, and just a hint of smoke. There were street vendors, carriages going every which way, servants out performing chores or assigned tasks, and my personal favorite, children out for a breath of fresh air with their nurses or governesses. Ellis fussed over me for a moment, but I waved her aside. To my amusement, my maid pressed a pair of brown felt gloves into my palm, indicating that she would not rest until I had put them on. Sighing, I did so, if only to please her.

It wasn't a very long walk from my uncle's home to the Darcy house, and I quite enjoyed the noise and excitement that only the city could offer. Country life was lovely, of course, but I had developed a taste for the numerous amusements that large cities and towns had to offer. Perhaps, if I was very fortunate, my uncle would allow me to attend an opera.

The walk to Grover Street was usually brief, but it felt a thousand times longer with Ellis muttering that it wasn't right for me to walk when I could have had a carriage. I smiled at her chastising and reminded her that I constantly walked the countryside of Huntington with little difficulty, so what was wrong with walking so short a distance in London?

"Country air is good for you, Miss Belle," she replied. "And there are all the flowers and animals to see as you pass them by." Ellis glared at a street baker calling out his wares. "It's also quieter."

I laughed and walked up the steps of my dear friend's house, which had been in the Darcy family for several generations. It was of the finest sort, and easily twice the size of my uncle's, which was probably why Aunt Sophia was unhappy at my not becoming the next Mrs. Darcy. Well, it was too late now, and besides, I had no wish to become Fitzwilliam's bride.

A tall, thin butler let me in, accepted my calling card on a silver tray, and carried it into a room on the other side of the hall, which I knew from experience was the parlor and music room. I could hear someone playing and singing Mozart, and was pleased that Fitzwilliam had managed to find a wife with a love and talent in music. I winced at the sound of a false note, but smiled as the player recovered and finished the piece just as the butler emerged from the room.

"Mr. and Mrs. Darcy will see you now, miss," he said with a bow. "If you will follow me?" I smiled and followed him, leaving Ellis behind to be taken to a servant's room to wait for me.

Following behind the tall figure, I realized that this must be someone hired after my previous visits here, for most of the servants knew me to be a friend of the family, and a frequent visitor. But it had been a long time ago since my last visit in London, and I should not have been surprised that some of them had gone or forgotten me.

"Miss Annabelle Woodworth." The butler stepped aside to allow me entrance.

Sailing into the room, I halted at the proper distance and curtseyed politely. When I rose, the warm smiles of my dear friend and his glowing bride instantly made me feel far more welcome than that of my uncle and aunts.

"Belle, it is good to see you again," Fitzwilliam greeted me. "May I present my wife, Elizabeth? Elizabeth, this is my dear childhood friend, Annabelle Woodworth."

Once we had exchanged curtseys, I was able to truly see the new Mrs. Darcy. She was perhaps a few years younger than I, and was very much a beauty, with dark brown hair that was nearly black, and fine dark eyes which sparkled with good humor, a touch of mischief, and a good deal of common sense. I liked her immediately, and knew she would be a far better wife for Fitzwilliam than I would.

"I am very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Darcy," I said with a smile. "I am afraid that I have heard nothing about you, and am sure it is the same with you hearing about me."

"Please, you may call me Elizabeth." Those dark eyes glittered with amusement. "And I shall tell you that is only partially true, for I have often heard your name mentioned by the servants in Pemberley and was entertained by several stories involving you and Mr. Darcy."

Fitzwilliam shook his head. "I'm afraid my housekeeper remembers the time we stole the apple tarts from the kitchen and gave them to the horses as treats," he explained to me.

"Yes, but the horses were so pleasant to us afterwards," I replied, my voice full of innocence.

Elizabeth laughed. "If I were fond of horses and able to ride, I would be more than happy to use that technique. It seems quite a good one."

I waved a hand in the air. "Oh, I'm sure I could make you into a great lover of animals, if I were given the chance to do so. You must come riding with me in the parks one day, it will be great fun. I'm sure that your husband would be happy to provide you with a wonderful mount, he has so many of them."

As Elizabeth tried to sway me away from getting her onto a horse, I watched in amusement as Fitzwilliam looked uneasy at the idea of his wife and old friend going riding together. He was probably afraid that I would tell Elizabeth some of the more embarrassing tales of his youth, though I had no such intentions –at least, not while I had a new, far more interesting acquaintance!

While the three of us talked, a maid brought in a tea tray and sandwiches. Elizabeth served us all with a delicate grace and a smile, which I much preferred to the stiff manners of many other women in their hostess duties. The conversation was as light and delightful as the tea, and I found myself enjoying it immensely, at least until the topic of my being in town was brought up.

"Belle, may I ask why are you in London?" Darcy asked, looking at me in curiosity as he set aside his tea. "You have not been here in years, not since your mother took you back to Huntington. Why are you here and who are you staying with?"

He didn't mention that Mama had taken me home directly after my third failed season in town. Of course, he knew better than that, but to bring the matter up in his wife's presence was, to me, rather careless of him.

I could feel Elizabeth's eyes on me, and felt obliged to answer. "Mama felt it would be best for me to try another season in town in an attempt to find a suitor and possibly a husband," I said, looking into the depths of my tea cup. "I failed before in London, and again in Derbyshire and at Huntington Hall, so Mama felt it might be better for me to try again here." As I sipped my tea, I did not mention that I felt likely to fail again this year.

To my surprise, I heard light feminine laughter. "I believe that all mothers are alike when it comes to the marriage state of their daughters," Elizabeth said, looking a mixture of sympathy and amusement. "My own mama's dearest wish was for my four sisters and I to be married, and though three of us are, she still worries for the other two."

"As her first and only daughter, my mother is determined to have me married into one of the finest families in England," I told her with a sigh. "Anything less than a lord would not do, so my mother sent me here to stay with her brother, my uncle, who is Sir James Cartwright."

Fitzwilliam winced in sympathy. "I have met Sir James several times," he explained upon seeing my confusion to his reaction. "He is not an overly-bright man, and yet he talks a great deal of things he knows nothing about. How is it he came across a fortune large enough to keep a house in town and a place in the country not far from his brother? I thought the present Lord Cartwright had inherited the entire family estate?"

That was easy to explain. "When Sir James was of marrying age, my grandmother gave him a large amount of money to make him more appealing to the young ladies just coming out. Grandmama's father had no sons, you see, and was wealthy enough to give each of his daughters a large sum to live on even after the property was entailed away to a distant cousin. My grandmother decided to pass on some of that money to her youngest son, James, which enabled him to make a fine match with my aunt, Josephine, and her thirty thousand pounds.

"As to the house in town, it has always belonged to Mama's family, but since no one except Sir James has any use for it, he was given the place entirely. Sir James is fond of London and rarely visits his country estate, which was part of his wife's inheritance. Whenever one of the family is in town, we stay at Sir James's home."

"Well, you may consider this a place away from your family," Elizabeth declared with a warm and mischievous smile. "I would like to go walking with you one day soon, as I am very fond of walking, and have not had the pleasure of being in London very often in my life. You will have to show me where all the fashionable places are, and where I will be allowed to go as a Mrs. Darcy."

Truly, Elizabeth's offer was a Godsend! My relief must have been very clear as I thanked her. "I very much appreciate your kindness and hospitality, Elizabeth. It will be a pleasure to show you where I did most of my shopping whilst I was here for the season, but I am sure there have been many changes here since then. I suppose we will have to find them together."

"That is something I look forward to very much," she replied.

I stayed for perhaps another half hour, talking to Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam about their wedding. I wish I could have been there, but knew that it might not be proper for a long-time female friend to attend a man's wedding to another woman. To be sure, Elizabeth was a very amiable and delightful woman, but I doubt even she would have been so open-minded about my being there to see them take their vows.

With a last farewell, Ellis and I walked into the street, an invitation to a party at the Darcy home tucked safely in my reticule. No doubt Aunt Sophia would wish to escort me, but perhaps good luck would smile upon me and Aunt Josephine would be well enough to go.

"Miss Belle, if you're up to it, perhaps we should do some shopping," Ellis said, trying to keep up with my hurried steps. "Your white gloves are a dreadful sight, and you'll need new evening gowns for the season."

Sighing, I allowed my maid to drag me through the bustling shops until our arms were full and my purse nearly empty. As we walked back to my uncle's, I couldn't help but wonder how Papa would feel about my asking for money so soon after leaving home.

* * *

AN: Sorry about the lack of Erik, but he's in the next chapter. Please leave a review! Thanks! 


	3. Parisian Heartbreak

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything from _**Pride and Prejudice**_ or _**Phantom**_, even though I wish I did.

AN: Here's Erik! Please remember that this is totally AU (alternate universe), so there's no living beneath the Paris Opera House in this story. However, he's sort of in-character, so please let me know what you think of him. Also, I changed a several things for my story's sake, such as Madame Giry's relationship with Erik, and Christine's last name and family history. I hope you all enjoy it, and will review! Thanks!

**Chapter 3: Parisian Heartbreak:**

The announcement in the morning paper had cut deep, far deeper than he thought it would. He had thought that, given enough time, he would have won her heart and made her his wife. But time and fate were against him, and now she was out of his reach.

_It is with great pleasure that we print here an announcement concerning the engagement of Viscount Raoul de Chagny to Miss Christine Day, daughter of Mr. Gustave Day and his wife, Annette._

Crumpling the newspaper, Erik Laurent tossed it into the fire and watched as the ink and paper smoked and burned, the edges folding in and shrinking just like his heart. Not even the beauty of his rose vines or the wildflower gardens outside his window could cheer him as they usually did. He could hear the soft petals of the roses against his window, their richly colored velvet hues tapping against the glass in the wind.

"Erik?" called a female voice.

He looked up. There was his longtime friend and former nanny, Antoinette Giry, in the doorway, a concerned look on her face as she hesitated to disturb him. Not wanting to be rude to the woman who had helped raise him, Erik waved her in.

Antoinette gave him a sympathetic smile and sat down across from him in a blush chair. "I read the news in the papers this morning. Are you alright?" Of course, she could easily see he wasn't. "She was not for you, Erik. Lovely and sweet as she was, and as much as I enjoyed her company, Christine was not meant to be your bride."

It took all of his strength not to say or do something he would regret, especially not when the woman who was like a mother to him sat there so calmly, her pale blue eyes focused on him in that certain way that always made him feel like a naughty child all over again. One of her dark blonde eyebrows was raised in anticipation of the temper tantrum that usually followed whenever Erik did not get his way in something. Thankfully, he had outgrown those outbursts.

For the most part.

"How can she do this to me?" he snarled, leaving his desk to pace around his study.

Madame Giry sighed. "She didn't do this to you, really. Christine did this because she loves him, as do her mother and father. He will make a good husband for her."

Erik whirled on her. "And I would not?" he snapped. "I told her my affections, that I wanted to make her my wife, and then she goes and becomes engaged to that…that…" He didn't bother finishing that sentence, because Antoinette was glaring at him again.

"Christine would not have made you a good wife, just as you would not have made her a good husband," she firmly said, using the cold voice that always chilled his fiery temper. "You are too bold, too passionate, and too clever for a girl such as her."

That might be true, given the simple, sweet, and innocent nature of Christine Day, and yet it had been those exact qualities that had captivated Erik's attention. True, she was less than half his age, but that hardly mattered in today's society, and he had been secretly cherishing the hope that he would be the one to show the young woman what the world had to offer.

Madame was still talking. "And as lovely as she is, we both know that beauty doesn't last."

He winced and put a hand to his face, the fingers of his right hand caressing the molded white leather that hid part of him from the world.

"I know that her rejection hurts you, dearest boy, but you must accept what has happened. There are so many other women in the world, and I know that that one of them is in possession of the qualities you're looking for in a wife."

But what sort of qualities was he looking for in a future Lady Laurent? Christine was so beautiful, it was no wonder she was called the beauty of her generation. With chocolate curls, glittering blue eyes, a naturally slender form that had no need for a corset, and pale skin that clouds would envy, Miss Christine Day was like an angel on earth, one that many men longed to call their bride.

'_And now one man has her_,' Erik thought with a snarl, snatching his hand away from his face.

Growling, he looked up at the painting that hung above the fireplace, gazing mockingly down at him in its perfection. Ironically, it was one of Erik made not so long ago, but which was now quite inaccurate.

* * *

He had been christened Erik Philippe Laurent, the only child of Lord Charles and Lady Marie Laurent, in southern France. Both of his parents had come from good aristocratic French families dating back several centuries, and they had been fortunate that it had been a love match that brought them together, instead of greed or an arrangement between the two families.

Born several years into the marriage, Erik had been his parents' last hope of having a living child and heir. His mother, a slim, delicate, fair creature, had lost two children in the womb, and another after only one month of life. After Erik's arrival, both Charles and Marie had watched their son with bated breath, wondering if one day they would wake up and find another child dead in the cradle. They were relieved when Erik managed to not only live until his first birthday, but also to survive the typical diseases, illnesses, and tumbles that all children experience in early life.

But family bliss did not last in the Laurent household. Erik had been young when his mother died, but then, she had always been delicate in health. After losing two children in the womb, and birthing two others afterwards, Marie had often suffered long colds that left her health even weaker. Finally, just after he had turned four-years-old, Erik was forced to say goodbye to his beloved mother, who left him with only the vaguest memories of her and a sore spot in his heart.

Charles Laurent, to his credit, did his best to raise his son correctly, but in the end was forced to depend on the workings of Madame Antoinette Giry, a woman who had been hired by he and Lady Laurent soon after Erik's birth. Marie Laurent had been too sickly and weak to care for her son, so it was Madame Giry's duty to be sure that the heir to the Laurent fortune and estate was raised well and in a goodly way. The stern, but gentle, woman made sure that her young charge did not "get above himself," and always punished him accordingly with any wrongdoings or trouble he managed to get himself into. No, Erik was certainly not going to grow up the spoiled person that most boys in his situation would turn out to be.

Given the lack of parental regard in Erik's life, many would think it a cold and difficult life. However, even though his father was frequently gone on important business, or traveling simply to forget his wife's death, Erik had a happy childhood. The household servants and Antoinette were his family of aunts and uncles who nursed him, healed his wounds, and offered advice that helped instill a good deal of common sense that most of the upper class lacked. Even the tutors that had been brought in to educate him approved of the sense that Erik displayed when it came to dealing with others.

The day that Charles Laurent died was a faint memory in Erik's mind. He had not really known his father, so he had not been very saddened when he had learned of it, though it still touched his heart painfully. Word of his father's passing had arrived from India just after Erik's ninth birthday, informing Antoinette that her employer was dead of a fever. She had wept, but resolved to do whatever was best for her young master, who, with no family to take him into their homes and lives, was now an absolute orphan.

To her surprise, Charles had left Antoinette in complete control of Erik's upbringing, as well as the entire Laurent fortune and estate, which would pass to Erik on his twenty-first birthday. Since she could not raise a child and run a vast property at the same time, the aging Madame Giry put the burden of Erik's property and finances upon an old friend of the late Charles until the day Erik came of age.

When he was 17, Erik was sent to Cambridge in England, one of the finest schools in Europe, to further his education. Being separated from the only place he had called home was difficult, but he made many friends, all of which might have been because of his fine looks and gentlemanly manner. Tall for his age, with black hair, green eyes, and fine chiseled features, Erik Laurent was everything a nobleman should be.

He was also very intelligent (his teachers called him 'genius'), which was more than could be said for half of his classmates, and during his frequent visits home for holidays, Erik told Antoinette everything he had learned while at school and the friends he had made. Since most boys wanted form acquaintances with those in their social class, Erik was irritated that nearly everyone he knew at school was rather arrogant or dull, so he kept a loose and distant connection with nearly all of his classmates…except one.

Several years younger than his French schoolmate, Fitzwilliam Darcy was one of the few whom Erik could call a good and true friend, and was much like Erik, with dark hair, a tall stature, and chiseled features that were always somber. Because both of them were quiet, serious young men who preferred a good book, horseback riding or an evening at the opera, they were thought of as 'proud' by their classmates, who would rather dance, drink, gamble their money away, or flirt with young ladies.

As any true friend would, Darcy had been kind enough to introduce Erik to another good man by the name of Charles Bingley. Bingley was a tall, fair, cheery sort of man who provided hours of conversation and amusement to his two serious friends, and was one of the few who could make them act slightly more pleasant in society. Also, Bingley was always making both Darcy and Erik roll their eyes good naturedly at their friend's open friendliness with everyone both of their social class and not.

Having both Bingley and Darcy as friends and confidants made life at Cambridge tolerable, and Erik often visited Bingley's home in London or Darcy's home in Derbyshire whenever a holiday period was too short to return home to France. Occasionally, the three men rented a house in the country so that they might go shooting or riding together, and it was during one of these hunting expeditions that changed Erik's life forever.

The three of them had been out looking for birds when a flock of pheasant burst from the brush. Erik had instantly pulled out his gun and just as he pulled the trigger, the whole world was on fire. His gun had backfired and the incredibly hot gunpowder and shot had burst onto the right side of his face. Darcy and Bingley had done their best to wash it off with their water canteens, but to no avail. They had been forced to drag him back to the house and send for a doctor, who had arrived with all speed. After inspecting the wound, the doctor had declared it fortunate that it had been a minor backfire, and that only part of the right side of Erik's face that had been harmed and not the entire thing. A balm had been made at once to help heal it, and a draught had been given to ease the pain and make him sleep.

Alas, with a burn such as his, there was no hope of a full recovery. Erik had been forced to wear layers of balm and bandages over his face for several weeks, and take laudanum to sleep and help bear the pain. When it was deemed that infection had not set in and that he was recovered enough to remove the bandages, Erik had nearly wept at the sight of his once-perfect face.

Two-thirds of the right side of his face was scared with reddish-purple skin, and there were odd little lumps where the layers of bandages had been pressed hard against the healing flesh, making it impossible for his face to grow back in a normal shape. The doctor had said that it was fortunate that Erik closed his eyes when he shot, for it had saved him from behind half-way blind as well –if he had not closed his right eye, he would surely have lost it. As it was, Erik was a defeated, scared man who refused to face the world as the horrible creature he now was at age 27.

To his surprise, it was Darcy and Bingley who had pulled him from the brink of hopelessness, promising to stay with their friend until he had recovered. Since he refused to return to Cambridge, Darcy had accompanied Erik to the Laurent estate and made sure that he was well-situated before going back to England to finish his education. Fortunately, since Erik had been on the verge of finishing his own education, the dean of the college sent a document confirming that Erik had indeed completed his learning to the fullest extent and need not return there if he did not wish to. This suited Erik just fine, as he had no desire to leave his estate and remain a recluse for the rest of his life.

As time passed, Antoinette, Darcy, and Bingley did their best to pull Erik back out into the world. A white mask had been fashioned to cover the scaring, and it was made of the finest and most comfortable materials so that Erik could wear it without being to uncomfortable –well, at least physically. Those he counted as friends and near-family accepted his situation and instantly became accustomed to the mask, but society was not so forgiving as they.

Three years after the accident, Erik finally got up the courage to face the world. One day, Darcy, who had been visiting from England during a school holiday, had forced him into attending a small party, and gone with him in order to offer assistance as needed. Obviously, it had; --the whispers, stares, and pale pallor of those around him had been uncomfortable, but he had borne it and borne it well enough that several of the guests invited him out for drinks at one of the local men's clubs the next day.

As the years passed, society gradually grew less awkward for Erik to be in as those around him became accustomed to his mask. They knew what had happened in England, and since he hadn't lost the entirety of his handsome face, Lord Erik Laurent was still considered a good man, and an eligible and suitable match for any of the French belles. For most of his life, Erik had managed to successfully fend off the matchmaking mothers and aunts, as well as their young charges. No woman caught his eye and he had no design on marrying anyone for quite sometime.

That all changed the evening he had been introduced to Miss Christine Day.

Christine was the daughter of a very minor French nobleman, barely above a wealthy merchant, but considered enough of an aristocrat to be asked to some of the more important balls, parties and assemblies. Erik had had the fortune of seeing her on her coming-out day, entering the ballroom of the local dance hall in a white gown draped in pink lace. With her brown curls pulled up at the back of her head and a small amount of white-and-pink ribbon threaded through it, she was a vision.

Although many men had claimed her for the dances that night, Erik had been one of the few that her parents, Gustave and Annette, had approved of. The other had been Raoul de Chagny, a handsome vicompt who had a dislike of Erik for the simple reason of him wearing a mask. Even though he clearly knew _why_ Erik wore a mask, Raoul did not hesitate in mocking the 'monster' who dared show his face in public instead of remaining secluded in his large house in the countryside. To his credit, Erik managed to joke about these insults to others around him, which only managed to win him more respect and admiration and to make the young Vicompt even angrier. Perhaps it was because the Laurent family was older and wealthier than the de Chagny line, but it was more likely that it was because both the Vicompt and Lord Laurent were attempting to win the hand of Miss Day.

Weeks of social events passed, and Erik made sure to attend each one that he knew Christine would be at. It was a unacceptable for a man to dance more than twice with the same woman, so he did his best to engage Monsieur or Madame Day in conversation and slowly involve their daughter, eventually finding out the young woman's likes, dislikes, and her temperament. He quickly discovered that he liked her sweetness of temper and her graceful, elegant manners; Christine also loved music and played and sang beautifully, almost as well as she danced. All of this helped Erik decide that he would make her his wife.

Unfortunately, Raoul had the same notion. He, too, had fallen in love with Christine, and it was clear that she did not know which of her suitors to choose. Both men were honorable enough not to press her parents into forcing their daughter into matrimony with either of them, and Gustave and Annette didn't care who Christine married, as long as it was for love and not just money. It was through fate, as well as bad luck and horrid timing on Erik's part, that Christine finally made her choice.

Two months ago, Monsieur Day, suffering from a bit of gout, was sent to the town of Bath in England to take the healing waters. Annette and Christine had gone as well, and though Erik would have gladly followed close behind, an unfortunate accident involving his stable workers required him to remain at home and see to the injured men and animals. There had been nothing more than a broken bone or two on the humans' side, but since they were more family than servants, Erik stayed, allowing Raoul de Chagny to voyage to Bath and successfully woo the fair Christine as his bride.

* * *

"Erik, did you hear what I just said?" Antoinette snapped.

Quickly, he pulled himself back from his memories and turned his attention towards her. "No, I did not." It was better to be truthful with his foster mother; she hated it when he claimed to have been listening when in fact he had not.

She glared at him. "I _said_ that you should go visit Monsieur Darcy in England. I am sure he will be able to help take your mind off of this whole business concerning Christine. Go to Pemberley or London and enjoy what the English have to offer as diversions. Forget France and the estate, it will still be here when you return."

Hmm, perhaps that wouldn't be such a bad idea. It had been some time since Erik had seen his friend, and in his most recent letter, Darcy had said he was going to be married and invited him to the ceremony, though Erik had been too busy to attend. Now, however, would be the ideal time to meet the new mistress of Pemberley and see what kind of woman had managed to break through the proud shell that surrounded the heart of Fitzwilliam Darcy. Besides, it might prove to be an interesting trip.

* * *

AN: Long history of Erik, but I hope everyone enjoyed it. He will meet Annabelle soon, and then the sparks will fly! Please leave a review to let me know how I'm doing. Thanks! 


	4. Friends in Need

Disclaimer: I wish that I owned dear Erik and all things _**Pride and Prejudice**_, but those characters already belong to someone else, and so are not mine. Only original people/places/things are mine.

AN: I'm so thankful to everyone who has read and reviewed this story. I honestly didn't know if people would like it, but you've all convinced me otherwise. Thanks so much! Also, there's some more background info here, though it's been altered from the movie/book/musical to fit my story. Enjoy the chapter and please review! Thanks!

**Chapter 4: Friends in Need:**

The clatter of little feet in the hallway outside the parlor was deafening, and I did my best to hold back a wince as a maid cried out in horror at the prospect of something falling over and breaking. My little cousins were running wild once more, and of course, there was no one there to stop them. Aunt Josephine was out for a bout of fresh air in her carriage, Aunt Sophia was visiting the bookshop, and Uncle was out and about at his club or with friends. Today was their governess's day off, as well as their nurse's morning off. The result was a pair of children running wild within the house.

Squeals of laughter and taunts filled the air, and I prayed that Christopher and Samantha would not come in, as I was busy sewing a new ribbon onto a hat I had just purchased. I had begun the project yesterday with Ellis's help, and was hoping to finish it before luncheon in the hope of wearing it to see Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam.

Just then, the door burst open, and Christopher rushed inside, black eyes sparkling with mischief. Those eyes rested on my new hat, and I instantly knew what it was he would do. Before he could take a few steps forward, I grabbed my hat and sewing basket and rushed it onto a high shelf, making sure the ribbons were not dangling within reach.

Disappointment was evident on the boy's face, but it quickly disappeared with the appearance of his younger sister, who upon entering, saw my new hat and immediately ran towards the shelving that held it. Samantha stood eagerly beneath it, clearly thinking that I would happily hand it to her to play with. She was very much mistaken in that, for I did not move an inch to fetch it down, which only seemed to make her upset.

"Belle," she said, stamping her foot indignantly as she pointed towards the hat, indicating what she wanted.

But unlike her nurse and governess, I was not obliged to do as she asked, for I was not in her parents' employ; I merely depended on them to provide a roof over my head, and if my Uncle chose to throw me out for not obeying his rather spoiled children, then so be it. Besides, I was sure that Ellis and I would be well-received at the Darcy house, and knew that Uncle risked the wrath of my father if he treated me poorly. If there was one thing Sir James feared, it was my father, who would not tolerate any sort of mistreatment against his daughter.

"No, Samantha, that is not for playing with," I told her firmly. "That is mine, and I must finish it before I go out today. You will have to be content with the play clothes that your nurse has made for you."

Anger and stubbornness crossed Samantha's young face as she stamped her foot. "But I want it! Let me see it!" she insisted.

"No." I shook my head.

And just like she always did when she did not get her way, Samantha began to cry, her voice becoming shrill as she demanded that I give her the hat at once. As was the usual way when things were not going well for me, they became worse, for it was that moment that Aunt Sophia returned and demanded to know what all of the noise was about.

I was fortunate to speak first, as my cousin was too busy weeping. "She is upset that I will not allow her to play with my new bonnet, Aunt," I replied calmly. "I am in the midst of finishing the ribbon on it, and desire to wear it out this afternoon to visit Mrs. Darcy."

Aunt Sophia frowned at me briefly before turning an indulgent smile at her youngest niece. "Samantha, darling, you cannot play with a hat that is not even finished," she gently chided her. "Perhaps once it is done, Cousin Anna will allow you to try it on."

That was not likely, though I did not say so. In all likelihood, Samantha would forget about the existence of my bonnet once some other toy caught her attention. I would merely have to keep it out of her way for a while, and hope that she received a new doll by the end of the week.

Sniffing, my cousin calmed down and nodded before hurrying out of the room, her brother right behind her. Once we were alone, Aunt Sophia turned towards me.

"It was very bad of you not to give her your hat, Annabelle," she scolded. "She is young and merely wanted to play with it for a little while. Why could you not allow her that?"

I tried to keep my anger from showing, once more using the polite mask I had been so carefully taught. "It is because it is a new hat, one which even I have not worn yet, and which is not yet finished. Would you have her destroy all of my work before I have even completed it?"

The ringing of the doorbell spared me from any further rebuffs by my aunt. A butler quickly knocked and entered after my call to do so, a silver tray in his hand and a letter folded on top of it. Always quick to retrieve letters that were not hers, Aunt Sophia instantly held her hand out on the assumption that it was for her. If the message were for my Uncle James or Aunt Josephine, Aunt Sophia was too happy to read it and give a verbal message to the person it was truly intended for. Since Uncle was always out until late and Aunt Josephine was usually too ill to go through all of the letters that arrived for her, they were only too glad to have Aunt Sophia give them a verbal account of the written letters before penning replies to them.

I, however, disliked having another person read my letters, and saw from the writing on the top that it was from Elizabeth Darcy. With a graceful sidestep that any lady would envy, the butler avoided my aunt's hand and offered me the message with a wink on his otherwise expressionless face. Obviously he did not like Aunt Sophia opening other people's mail, either.

"Thank you," I said with a nod. "If there is a reply required, I shall ring for you directly."

The butler bowed in reply and left me to open my letter while my aunt glared at me. I ignored her in favor of the invitation that Elizabeth had sent me, asking if I would join her for luncheon, followed by a walk through town and perhaps some refreshment afterwards. Seeing that this message did, indeed, require a reply, I pulled the cord that rang for the butler.

* * *

An hour later, I was on my way to the Darcy's. Unable to keep me away from such important and wealthy friends, Aunt Sophia had glared at me as I wrote my acceptance note and sent it off at once with a messenger that served my Uncle's house. Ellis had been thrilled at the note, and had quickly chosen a white walking dress with a pale blue jacket for me to go out in. My new hat was left unfinished until tomorrow, which did not matter as it did not match my jacket, and I was forced to wear different bonnet, this one with blue ribbons. We left as soon as the last pin was put into my hair, and I whisked out the front door, I was never so thankful for an invitation as I was today.

Elizabeth was just coming down the stairs in her home when I arrived, looking sharp in a white day dress and red coat that fastened up with brass buttons. A matching bonnet was on top of her head, trimmed with red ribbons that were embroidered in gold. She smiled and told me that they were new, bought at the insistence of Fitzwilliam, who thought she would look lovely in red. He had been right.

We left the Darcy home and began our walk through town, Ellis trailing along behind us like a protective little puppy. The air was clear and slightly cool, but pleasantly so, for it kept us from becoming too hot. All around us, men and women rode horses, nurses and governesses watched over their charges, and occasionally, a married or courting couple walked by.

"This is a very fine place for an outing," Elizabeth said, linking her arm through mine.

I smiled upon seeing the sparkle in her eye. "Oh, yes, it is indeed," I replied. "In the afternoon it will not be so, for that is when everyone is visiting everyone else for tea or to talk, and in the evening, it will be deserted while all of society is at the theater or at a ball or party."

"Then perhaps it is a good thing we will be having a small party this evening, is it not?" she asked mischievously. "I hope you will be able to attend, for I know no one in town and it would be of great comfort to me if I were to have someone to talk to."

"Oh, of course!" I exclaimed. "I would be happy to come tonight! As far as I know, my family has no engagements for me, but I shall have to see which of my aunts will be accompanying me this evening."

My friend nodded, and the two of us spent the rest of our time looking at the women in the latest fashions and remarking on them. As she had stated before, Elizabeth was a fine walker, and we managed to go half-way through the park before I voiced my tiredness. Thankfully, there was a lovely eating place nearby, and luncheon was a delicious affair of meat, salads, and soup.

When we were happily full, I escorted Elizabeth to the nearest bookshop, where we spent several hours combing through the shelves and stacks in search of something we had not yet read. Elizabeth recommended a few that I had not considered, and I happily returned the favor in offering a few titles that I preferred. Eventually, we each came away with four books each, a small delivery boy on his way to my uncle's while another was assigned to follow Elizabeth home.

"Surely your aunts would not be remiss in sparing you for afternoon tea?" she asked me. "We are having such fun, it would be a shame for it to end now. Besides, Mr. Darcy is expecting an old friend to arrive today, and I would like you there as well, if possible."

I smiled fondly at her, but declined. "I am afraid that if I do not give myself enough time to ask my aunts about this evening, they might not allow me to attend. I must be off now, before another invitation of some sort arrives and causes a sort of social chaos over who has the greatest priority."

Elizabeth laughed and bid me farewell before asking to send word as to whether or not I would be able to attend their party tonight. Giving my word, I began walking home. Behind me trailed Ellis, remarking on how amusing Mrs. Darcy was and that it was a fine thing for me to be friends with such an amiable woman.

Just before we went inside my uncle's home, I paused and savored one last moment's peace. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and went in, head held high as I readied for what I knew to be a battle with Aunt Sophia over tonight's festivities.

* * *

Looking out the window of his carriage, Erik found himself smiling in spite of his foul mood. Although the French and English tended to not get along, and sometimes disliked one another's cities, Erik found that, other than Paris, London was one of his preferred places to visit. Besides, he had spent a good part of his life in England, and spoke the language fluently. In fact, he felt almost English himself, and could hide his French accent to the point of it being barely noticeable.

The air was filled with noise and scents, and for a moment, Erik felt the distractions and delights of the bustling city rush over him. Against Madame Giry's suggestion to properly rent a house in London before leaving, Erik had decided not to delay in planning his voyage north. Given the situation with Christine, he had been desperate to leave France at once, and written to his friend Fitzwilliam to ask if he could stay at the Darcy residence for a short time, at least until he had managed to locate a decent house to call his own. And so, three days after receiving a welcoming reply from his friend, Erik had taken leave of his family home and made the long journey at once.

The carriage slowed to as stop and the footman immediately leapt from his perch to open the door and fold down the steps. With a resigned sigh, Erik stepped out and looked up at the large house, a structure that had belonged to the Darcy family for years. He had only been here a handful of times, but it was familiar to him, and it was the home of his dearest friend, so it was no wonder the sight was so warming to his heart.

As he took a few steps forward, a gaggle of servants swarmed out and began taking things down from the carriage rooftop and from inside the carriage itself. A butler detached himself from the others and gave a formal bow.

"Mr. Darcy is expecting you, Mr. Laurent. If you will follow me?"

With a nod, Erik walked behind the tall, thin butler and was admitted to a cozy room filled with dusty books and comfortable chairs, in the center of which stood Fitzwilliam Darcy. The two men bowed politely before warmly clasping hands and exchanging smiles.

"Erik, my friend, it's been too long," Darcy said, offering a seat before taking one himself and pouring two cups of brandy. "What have you been up to?"

Closing his eyes in a wince, Erik relayed everything that had happened since the last time the two had met, taking a sip or two of brandy once and a while as he spoke. There was a slight look of sympathy on Darcy's face, but for the most part, the Englishman was solemn as he sat listening. Finally, as Erik ended his tale with his arrival in London, Darcy shook his head.

"Madame Giry was right in saying that Miss Day was the wrong sort to be your wife," he said. "Such a young, naïve girl would never do for you, a man who has been out in the world and who wishes to experience a great deal more of it. Didn't you once say that you longed to travel throughout the Continent and see Italy, Spain and Greece? Surely Miss Day would not be the sort to travel with you!"

Darcy was right in that account. Erik wanted to see the world, and considering how delicate she was, it was doubtful that Christine would want to go along with him. Since he wanted a wife who possessed the desire to travel and keep her husband company during those travels, Christine was not the sort of person to share that with.

'_But if she did not go, then surely coming home to such a lovely vision of beauty would be worth it_,' Erik thought, imagining a smiling Christine greeting him upon his return home from his travels.

His imaginings were dissipated by a knock on the door and the arrival of the butler. "Mrs. Darcy has returned, sir," the tall man said. "Shall I show her in when she is ready?"

Darcy nodded. "Yes, Thomas, that will do." The butler bowed his way out and shut the door.

Erik grinned. "Ah, the infamous Mrs. Darcy," he said, sitting up straight so that he could properly greet the lady. "I look forward to meeting the young lady who had managed to get you to marry for love instead of wealth or very high breeding."

Fitzwilliam was spared from answering as his wife Elizabeth sailed into the room, carrying with her the scent of fresh London air on the white muslin of her dress. Sparkling brown eyes made her charming and quite pretty, and her brown curls were done up fashionably well. Erik instantly approved of her, especially since she did not stare at his mask or become awkward around him.

"You must be Mr. Erik Laurent," she said, coming forward to curtsey. "I've heard so much about you from Mr. Darcy."

Ah, that would explain why she wasn't surprised at his appearance. Reaching out, Erik took her hand and pressed a polite kiss to it in the manner of the French aristocracy. "You are very kind, Madame," he said. "And I, too, have heard much from Darcy about his lovely wife with the sharp wit and fine eyes."

She laughed and asked him to sit before pulling a cord to summon a maid. The answering girl was asked to bring tea, and not long after, everyone was served and comfortably situated to enjoy an afternoon of talk.

"Erik, I noticed that you didn't bring a servant with you," Darcy remarked as he selected a small sandwich from a plate. "You know you can't travel anywhere without someone to look after your clothes and affairs. It is impossible."

The masked Frenchman laughed. "No, I did not travel alone, Darcy," he said. "Nadir is with me, only traveling by sea does not agree with him, so he stayed behind to recover before joining me. He will no doubt be here in a day or two, and I think I am competent enough to dress myself properly until then."

Elizabeth looked thoughtful. "Nadir…that is not a name I recognize. Where is he from?"

"Persia," Erik replied, enjoying the surprise on her face. He then related the tale of how he had obtained such an unusual servant.

Nadir Kahn was an old acquaintance of Antoinette Giry and her husband, who had been a worldly traveler before settling down in France. Monsieur Giry and Nadir had met in Greece, and when Giry had come west to France, Nadir had come as well. The two men found wives and fathered children, a son for Nadir, and a daughter for the Giry's.

However, not long after their new lives had begun, tragedy struck for both sides. Monsieur Giry died unexpectedly of an illness, which was followed by the sudden death of Nadir's wife and son. Alone with no money or income, Antoinette decided that Meg would be put in the hands of the grieving Nadir, which had helped him overcome his grief for his wife and son, and provided a good upbringing for little Meg. Confident that Meg would be well-looked after, Antoinette went in search of work, and had managed to employ herself at the Laurent home, which allowed her to send some of her money back to help raise Meg.

"Oh, my goodness, how horrible it must have been for her, forsaking her own child to raise another for money," Elizabeth exclaimed. "But why did she not bring her daughter to come live with her after you were grown?"

"Meg is several years older than I am, and by the time I no longer needed Madame Giry's guidance, Meg was grown and married to a fine craftsman in Paris," Erik explained. "Nadir and Madame had kept in contact over the years, with Antoinette visiting Meg whenever she could. This arrangement worked out for the best for everyone, and they were all happy with it."

"But again, how did he come into your service?" Darcy asked, sipping his tea.

Grinning, Erik selected a small cake and nibbled at it. "Nadir, who had become a servant to a great gentleman, became unemployed when someone accused him of stealing from the house's silver closet. The charges were false, but he was still dismissed by the lady of the house. When Antoinette discovered his unfortunate circumstance, she asked if he could be my personal servant and traveling companion, and I accepted."

Elizabeth smiled. "That was very kind of you to do."

He looked down. "I am very fond of my old nurse, and owe her a great deal. Providing a place for her friend, the man who took care of her child and found a good marriage for her, is the least I could do."

Fitzwilliam was giving him that smile he reserved for selected few. "Erik, how would you like to come to a party tonight? Elizabeth and I are having a moderate gathering of friends, and it would do you good to make new acquaintances with others besides myself."

The idea did not sit well with Erik, who found parties uncomfortable, given the situation with his face. "I'm not sure if that is such a good idea."

Then Elizabeth gave him a kind, charming smile, and Erik knew that the least he could do for his host and hostess was attend their party. Sighing, he nodded his acquiescence, though he couldn't help wondering if he was going to regret this later.

* * *

AN: Well, what do you think? I hope that this story isn't too boring thus far, but Erik and Annabelle will meet next chapter, and then things will get interesting, I promise! Please be kind and review. Thanks so much! 


	5. A London Party

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything from _**Pride and Prejudice**_ or _**Phantom**_, even though I wish I did.

AN: Here's where Erik and Annabelle meet! It might not go too well, but it will certainly be interesting! I hope that you will leave a review and let me know what you thought about everything. I've tried to stay true to Jane Austen, but feedback is much appreciated. Thanks!

**Chapter 5: A London Party:**

Wincing as Ellis tugged a lock of my hair around a curling iron, I did my best to think positively this evening.

On my arrival home from my outing with Elizabeth Darcy, Aunt Sophia had greeted me with a glare and instructions that I was to be ready for an evening spent entertaining the family with my skills on the piano forte, which, I had no doubt, would be quickly followed with a critique of my performance.

Thankful for an excuse to escape the house, I told everyone about the Darcy's party invitation for tonight, and gave apologies for it being made so late in the day. Aunt Sophia's eyes lit up, which nearly made me groan out loud –if she was excited by the news, then Aunt Josephine must be feeling quite unwell today, which would leave me in the custody of Aunt Sophia for the evening.

'_Well, it is better than having to display my poor music talents to the criticism of my family_,' I thought as Ellis released the perfectly made curl.

Tonight, I had chosen a shimmering silver silk gown with gold-and-white lace around the sleeves and neckline. Around my waist wound a gold sash, and gold ribbons were being woven into my hair to keep any locks from straying while I danced.

'_And I certainly hope that I am asked to dance a great deal tonight_,' I thought, pulling on my long white gloves.

Really, I couldn't help it if I was very fond of dancing, and usually did not suffer from a lack of partners. As a young woman of great fortune, many men both old and young asked me to dance, but anything further than that seemed to be just out of reach. Most marriages were made from one single dance, and yet I had not yet managed to go further than the dance floor. It was terribly disappointing.

"Well, the curls are done, Miss, but now it's time to get those ribbons in," Ellis said with a gentle pat on my shoulder. "Are you ready?"

Nodding, I waited for the pain of my hair being pulled to come to an end. My maid was very good at forcing my unusually straight hair into doing whatever she wanted, but it often required a great deal of pulling, combing, brushing, and pinning, all of which were quite painful. It was all worth it, however, so I put up with the pain so that I might look presentable for the night.

Finally, the last ribbon, hair pin and stray hair were in place, and I was ready for the Darcy's party. Perhaps, if I was very fortunate, I would be able to find a way to escape my aunt's side for the night.

* * *

Tonight, Aunt Sophia was well-dressed in a peach-colored gown with several white feathers in her hair. However, she was not at all happy about my being far more fashionable and presentable than she was, and if she forced me to remain with her for the entire party, it would not be an easy evening for me. But if Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth sought my company, my aunt was in no position to go against the request of our host and hostess. 

The carriage ride was short, of course, but it seemed to last forever with Aunt Sophia lecturing me on acting properly and not being too bold in public, and that I was to not leave her side unless asked.

I suppose I should mention that I am rather forward in regards to my speech and actions, though that is mostly reserved for those I trust and have known for quite some time. These particular friends are familiar with that aspect of my personality, and are accustomed to it, some of whom find it amusing and endearing. My Aunt Sophia, however, thinks of my behavior as rude and ill-mannered, and has tried more than once to force it out of me. So far, I have only learned one thing from her, and that is to be quiet and meek in her presence, presenting my true self to others while she is not looking.

Our coach followed the procession up the Darcy's front drive, where we were helped out by our footman and greeted at the door by servants who were eager to take the guests' outerwear. I happily gave up the heavy bronze cloak around my shoulders and went to meet my friends, who were doing their duty of greeting their guests as they arrived.

I gave a polite curtsey as Elizabeth smiled at me. "Oh, Annabelle, I'm so glad you came."

"It is good to see you," Darcy remarked in his usual stiff manner.

Smiling, I curtseyed in response to his bow, giving him my full attention. "Well, you can hardly expect me to miss one of the first parties thrown by your lovely Mrs. Darcy," I replied in a low voice, thankful that my aunt was too busy trying to impress Elizabeth to notice my comment.

Fitzwilliam smiled just the tiniest bit. If I hadn't known him or his manners for so long, I would not have caught it. But there it was, which meant that the formidable Mr. Darcy was amused.

Darcy then turned towards my aunt, who had given way to the guests coming up behind her to greet Elizabeth. "And good evening to you, Miss Cartwright."

Aunt Sophia attempted to give him a charming smile, but it merely looked as though she were simpering at him –which, as I well knew, she was. My aunt very much desired to be risen up to the higher social ranks, and if she could not do so by marriage, then she would have to use the connections formed by others in her family.

"Mr. Darcy, such a pleasure to see you," she said, grasping her fan and flicking it open. "Such a lovely home you have."

True enough, the Darcy home was large and very impressive with all of the art, statues, and elegant murals decorating the walls and ceiling. Even to me it was quite incredible, and I had been here many times in my past.

Finally, once her greeting was finished, Aunt Sophia and I trailed into the large ballroom just as an announcer declared the first dance of the night. Ladies escorted by their partners entered the middle of the floor and a moment later, the orchestra struck their tune. I longed to watch the dance, but was forced to follow my aunt to a seat far from the entertainment.

Taking a chair next to a window, I knew it was going to be a long evening indeed.

* * *

He had only been here ten minutes, and Erik was already in agony. English society was very different from the French, and it had been so long since his last visit that Erik was forced to stand in a corner, drink wine, and pray that no one approached him while he remembered his English social manners. In the meantime, there had already been a few stares and whispers about him and his mask, so Erik attempted to remain out of the way as long as possible. 

Across the room, Darcy was engaged in the final greetings of his guests, and beside him was Elizabeth, who looked stunning in an emerald-green gown trimmed with gold lace and ribbons. Even though he did not know her very long, Erik felt that Elizabeth was not used to the finery, and possibly disliked it. However, the gown suited her, and went quite well with Darcy's black evening coat.

At last, the final guest was greeted, and there were the host and hostess of the evening, making their way towards him while people danced, talked, joked, and laughed around them. With a bow, Erik pressed a chaste kiss to the back of Elizabeth's gloved hand and smiled at his friend.

"An excellent party, Darcy, I couldn't have put a better one together myself," he said honestly.

"I believe you should thank my wife for the evening," Fitzwilliam replied while smiling fondly at Elizabeth. "She is the one who deserves all the credit."

She returned her husband's smile before turning back to Erik. "I hope that you will ask a few of the young ladies here for a dance, Mr. Laurent. I can promise you that there are likely to be more than one who would accept your offer." She gave Fitzwilliam a significant look that clearly had a story or a joke behind it.

Darcy rolled his eyes. "You had better do as she asks, Erik, or else she will turn you from the house," he sarcastically informed him. "And there are several nice young women here, most of whom are friends of mine or Elizabeth's."

Erik shook his head. "No, I am afraid that is out of the question. The last thing I need is more attention than I've already had."

Elizabeth gave him a sympathetic smile but said nothing, for which he was very thankful –in the past few years, he had received more empty words or handshakes in regards to his accident than he liked.

"Would you mind it terribly if I were to introduce you to a dear friend of mine and Mr. Darcy's?" she asked, changing the topic. "It would give you someone to talk with besides the two of us."

For a moment, Erik was hesitant, but decided that perhaps it would be a good idea to know someone in town besides the Darcys, and since it _was_ their party, Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth could not be around him all night. No, some new company would be much appreciated, and if this fellow were a friend of Darcy's, then he must be a good and intelligent man.

He nodded his acceptance, and followed behind the pair as they led him across the room to a set of chairs, in two of which sat a pair of women. One was dressed in a peach-colored gown and appeared middle-aged; the second was young enough to be her daughter, and was dressed in a fashionable silver gown. The older woman nodded to them and left, but to his horror, Fitzwilliam held out his hand to the younger woman and bowed over it as Elizabeth greeted her.

"Annabelle, would you allow me the honor of introducing you to Mr. Erik Laurent? Mr. Laurent, this is our dear friend, Miss Annabelle Woodworth."

* * *

I was surprised at the new acquaintance Elizabeth introduced me to. He was quite tall and very handsome, with black hair, green eyes, and a finely chiseled face that ended in a dimpled chin. However, what struck me the most was the form-fitting white mask on the right side of his face. 

But I was being rude by not behaving properly, so I quickly stood up and curtseyed. "How do you do, sir?"

Rising, I noticed that he had given me a bow in return, but looked displeased at our meeting. His voice was cold as he replied, "Miss Woodworth," and said nothing more.

'_Oh, dear, he's almost as bad as Fitzwilliam was when I first met him_!' I thought, feeling more amused than offended. '_Well, I suppose that I will have to be the adult here and act accordingly_.'

* * *

The young woman gave him a curtsey, and the traditional "how do you do?" without so much as staring very long at his mask. Erik gave a bow of his own, doing his best not to be rude and glare at his friend. How could Darcy do this to him, especially when things were awkward enough as it was? 

Surprisingly, Miss Woodworth appeared rather amused with Erik's distant behavior, going so far as to smile just a little at him. It was barely noticeable, but he could still see it, and it frustrated him that she was not acting like a polite, shy, well-mannered lady of high society should. What was this woman all about, laughing at him so?

"How do you find the evening's festivities, Mr. Laurent?" she asked politely, though her manner showed her to be genuinely interested instead of merely polite. "Are they to your liking?"

Erik stiffened. "I like them very well, Miss Woodworth," he replied, keeping his tone civil and polite.

She studied him carefully until Elizabeth drew her attention. "Anna, I was hoping to see you dance this evening. Perhaps Mr. Darcy can find you a partner, if you lack one."

Miss Woodworth shook her head. "Please, Elizabeth, call me Belle. I have several acquaintances named Anna or Anne, and being called Belle makes it far less confusing for everyone when we are all in the same room."

Erik barely held back a sniff of distain. '_Belle in French means beauty, and this girl is hardly what I would call a beauty. Her eyes have the oddest shape to them, and her manners are severely lacking_, _especially when she attempts to be witty_.'

Though he was unwilling to admit it, Erik knew that he was being terribly unfair to the poor girl who was merely trying to be pleasant company. And Miss Woodworth really _was_ pretty, the silver in her gown bringing out the dark brown of her eyes as she sat perfectly straight in her chair, her gloved hands resting delicately in her lap.

'_But her chin has a stubborn shape_,' he thought, feeling oddly triumphant at finding a flaw.

Almost unwillingly, Erik found himself comparing Miss Woodworth to Christine. Christine possessed angelic beauty, grace, demur manners, and a sweetness that he found endearing. Miss Woodworth was bold and appeared rather headstrong, both very unladylike qualities. He ignored the part of his mind that said Elizabeth Darcy was the same way, and he liked her quite well.

"Mr. Laurent, perhaps you would be so kind as to dance with Miss Woodworth?" Darcy inquired, giving his friend a significant look.

Surprised, Erik opened his mouth to decline, but stopped. It would be terribly rude of him to snub Miss Woodworth, especially since she was such a good friend of both Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth.

'_Not to mention that Antoinette Giry taught me better than to slight a girl in public_.' If his former nurse and governess ever found out about such an act on his part, Erik would never hear the end of it.

Bowing, Erik replied, "I would be honored to dance with you, Miss Woodworth."

* * *

Despite his cold reply to Fitzwilliam's request, I gave a polite smile and put my hand inside of Erik Laurent's, allowing him to lead me to the floor which was now filling with couples for the next dance. Taking our places, we faced one another until the music started. 

He was a fine dancer, I must admit. Others I had previously shared the floor with had been forgetful of the steps or movements, or were extremely clumsy. Erik Laurent was neither, though he was rather quiet and his face was expressionless, a fact I found rather disturbing. Honestly, did the man find no pleasure in a party or a dance?

'_In fact, he reminds me of Fitzwilliam whenever he was out in public, not so long ago_.'

Yet Mr. Laurent did not have too much of a proud, arrogant air about him. I found that he was more distant, and that was most likely due to his mask. I heard the whispers, as well as saw and felt the looks people gave us, but I paid them no mind. Instead, I gave him a reassuring smile when we next faced each other in the dance and hoped that he understood that he had my support. Perhaps if he knew he wasn't alone, he would thaw and become more sociable.

* * *

When he next faced Miss Woodworth, Erik was shocked to see her smiling kindly at him. As they paused to let a couple skip by, he listened and paid more attention to those around them. 

Behind him were whispers, and on the other side of Miss Woodworth was a sea of eyes that flicked towards him. He knew that they were attempting to get a glimpse of his mask, and were no doubt curious as to what it hid. Erik was long accustomed to the talk and the looks, but what really displeased him was the smile his partner was giving him.

Normally, a smile thrown his way was one of flirtation, timidity, or fear. Those were all due to either his wealth, his mask, or to the young woman's reaction upon seeing him for the first time. However, the one Miss Woodworth was presently gracing him with was neither of those; -instead, it seemed to one of pity, and if there was one thing Erik detested being treated with, it was pity.

Completely ignoring her smile, Erik spent the next five or ten minutes focused on the dance, finally whirling to his left to spin in a circle, complying with the dance step, and took her hand before skipping down the center of the gathered dancers, at the end of which the music ended with a flourish. Breathing deeply, he bowed politely to his partner before escorting her back to her chair.

"Miss Woodworth, if you will excuse me," he said, giving another polite bow before taking his leave.

Once he was safely away, Erik left the ballroom and made his way upstairs towards the private guest rooms, asking a servant to inform Mr. and Mrs. Darcy that he was feeling unwell and had retired for the night. Hopefully tomorrow would prove a better day for him in regards to amusements and acquaintances than this one.

* * *

"Goodness, Belle, whatever did you do or say to make Mr. Laurent leave like that?" Fitzwilliam asked, the tone of his voice slightly teasing. 

"I said and did nothing," I insisted while accepting a glass of lemonade from him.

"But you must have said _something_," Elizabeth insisted, taking a sip of her own drink.

I shook my head. "Perhaps he was tired and wanted to rest after his journey? I assume he's the friend you told me arrived this afternoon." Fitzwilliam nodded. "There, you see? He was probably exhausted from his journey from wherever-it-is he's from and desired to sleep."

"He's from France," Darcy said, handing his own empty cup to a passing servant. "And yes, I suppose that could be it. The sea voyage and carriage ride from the port must have tired him out."

I highly doubted it, but said nothing. If his manners indicated anything, it was that Erik Laurent was simply not the type to enjoy a party for whatever reason. Whether it was because of his face or otherwise, he did not fancy society anymore than I did, but in society's eyes, he was allowed to be rude simply because he was foreign, and, from what I could gather from recent gossip, incredibly rich.

"How long have you known Mr. Laurent?" I asked Fitzwilliam. "You've never mentioned him before."

He shrugged. "I first met him at Cambridge long ago. We spend most of our time with Mr. Bingley, until the accident."

I was surprised. "An accident you say?"

Darcy nodded. "A hunting accident, and yes, that is why he wears the mask. It's a pity, too. He was a fine-looking man, and I am sorry that such a thing happened to such a kind, decent fellow. However, he dislikes pity, and cannot bear it. He would rather be treated with respect and kindness than mere pity."

Oh, dear, then perhaps I _had_ done something to cause Mr. Laurent to leave so suddenly, though I had not meant to. I had only intended only to be kind, and it seemed my so-called 'encouraging smile' to him must have seemed one of pity, and that had made him angry. It was a situation I would have to rectify immediately.

"Belle, would you like to join me for another walk tomorrow morning?" Elizabeth was saying.

"I'm afraid I have plans for tomorrow," I regretfully told her, coming back to the present. "I'm to visit a childhood friend of mine who has married and just moved to town. London is still new to her, and I am afraid she is in need of me to help her adjust to life in the bustling city."

My friends nodded their understanding and invited me to tea with them tomorrow afternoon instead. I agreed, sincerely hoping that Mr. Laurent would be there so that I might make things right between us. It would not do for us to be enemies, as it would put both Darcy's in the middle of it, and that would be cruel.

Taking another sip of my drink, I turned to watch the dancers swirl merrily across the dance floor.

* * *

AN: They met, but it wasn't a good way to kick things off between them, was it? Well, I'm sure things will get better…eventually. Thanks for reading, and please review! 


	6. Friendly Advice

Disclaimer: I wish that I owned dear Erik and all things _**Pride and Prejudice**_, but those characters already belong to someone else, and so are not mine. Only original people/places/things are mine.

AN: Kind of a cliffhanger ending to this chapter, so please don't hurt me! Instead, I hope that you all enjoy reading it and will review. Thanks!

**Chapter 6: Friendly Advice:**

Aunt Sophia must have been very well-entertained at the party, for she was in quite the happy mood on the carriage ride home, and went to bed without speaking a single criticism to me.

For my part, I had had a lovely night as well. The food at the banquet was wonderfully done, and I was able to dance numerous dances, just enough to keep me occupied, but not so many that I became exhausted by the end of the night. When I was not dancing, I was occupied in conversation with not only Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth, but a also few friends and acquaintances whom the Darcys and I knew and had attended the night's festivities.

To my relief, Ellis was waiting with a cup of chocolate and a soft roll warming by the fire, and once I was in my nightgown and my hair freed of pins, I helped myself to them. The chocolate was welcoming after such an evening, and the warm, soothing treat helped me fall to sleep at once.

* * *

Unlike yesterday, the next morning dawned cloudy with the threat of rain. Ellis _tsked_ at me for planning to go out, but I was overdue for a visit to my dearest friend, Moira, and would not be swayed towards staying home.

Moira Thompson was merely three months older than I, and had been my dear friend for as long as I can remember. Although her family was not exceedingly wealthy, they were a family of good natures and breeding, and had owned their home near Huntington for many generations, so it was only natural that a Miss Woodworth would become life-long friends with a Miss Thompson.

Before my being sent to London for my coming out, Moira and I had spent much of our time together as children, playing dolls, drawing, and practicing the piano forte. As we grew older, we took to riding horses together, or reading outdoors in the sunshine. Much of our fun was spent divided between Huntington Hall and her family's own modest estate nearly five miles away, a distance easily crossed no matter what the English weather was like.

However, our friendship became strained upon my being sent to London. Mr. and Mrs. Thompson would not allow Moira to go to London, as Mrs. Thompson disliked society, and Mr. Thompson disliked the noise the city brought, so Moira and I were forced our separate ways. We exchanged letters, telling of our encounters with new friends, inquiring after each other's family, and trying to remain close. Finally, I returned home from my failed seasons in London and Derbyshire, after which our friendship resumed as though nothing had interrupted it in the first place.

But our pleasure in one another's company was not to last. Nearly a year ago, Moira met Mr. Richard Grey, a prosperous gentleman some five years older than she, and the two fell in love. Within six months, they were married and moved into a small house near Huntington. Recently, though, Mr. Grey had come into a fortune from a distant relative, and he and Moira had moved into Cheapside, a district in London of some distance from my Uncle's.

The Grey's new residence was a lower standing than my family's, and would no doubt cause me to come under Aunt Sophia's scrutiny for visiting someone supposedly inferior to my level of society. However, I thought nothing of it, and I would gladly risk the wrath of my aunt to see my friend and to help her adjust to life in town. True friends were certainly worth facing family anger.

* * *

After breakfast had been cleared away, I dressed in a lavender muslin dress with a violet coat to ward off any possible chill or rain. Cream-colored gloves donned my hands while my reticule hung from my wrist, and after Ellis pinned up my hair, I put on my bonnet with gold-trimmed violet ribbons.

Since the distance to the Grey's home was some distance, and since I did not want to ask Uncle for his carriage, I hired a hackney cab to take me. Ellis frowned disapprovingly, but she knew that if I requested Uncle's carriage, Aunt Sophia would ask where I was going, and possibly influence Uncle into not allowing me to visit the Grey's because of their inferior society. Thus, Ellis said nothing as we left the house and rode into town.

The ride was relatively short compared to walking, and we arrived just as Mr. Grey was leaving to visit friends of his own. He gave a polite bow, inquired after my health and that of my parents, and was off the moment a butler opened the front door and invited Ellis and I inside. 

Moira greeted us in the hallway of her home, and once a servant had taken my coat and gloves and Ellis was off to a servants' room to wait for me, Moira showed me to a parlor where we made ourselves comfortable. My friend smiled at me and asked if I was well, and how I was managing with my difficult family relations.

Chuckling lightly, I gave her a sly look. "You of all people know how I got along with them in the past," I said, "and how I will have to suffer at their hands until the end of the season."

"Or until you manage to find a husband that meets the approval of your mother and all of her family," Moira finished for me as a maid brought in a tray of coffee and lemonade. "I'm fortunate that Richard is as rich and handsome as he is good, and that Mama and Papa approved of him from the start."

Sighing, I accepted a cup from her. "In that I envy you. Mama would have me married for wealth while Papa would have me marry for love. I would so like to love, for what good is money if it cannot make you happy?"

"Oh, money can make you happy, if you have enough of it," my friend said teasingly.

I laughed and sipped my lemonade as Moira went about telling me of all the things she had purchased to make the house more comfortable. Were I in any other company, such a topic would bore me, but Moira's tastes in furnishings was far better than most ladies I knew, and so I did not mind talking about the different rugs, couches, vases, and paintings she had looked at or bought in months past.

"And so I chose the blue rug with white tassels on the edges, since it best matched the white chairs with silver cushions," Moira finished at last.

"It was well chosen, and a sure sign of your good taste," I complimented her, my praise making her eyes glint with amusement.

"Very well, I see that I have bored you enough," Moira laughed. "What fascinating things have you done thus far in town? I know you've not been here a week, but surely something entertaining must have happened, for you are in a fine mood. You usually do not look so happy after a few days with Sir James and his family."

She knew me all too well. I blushed. "Yes, I normally would be longing for home by this point, had I not been so lucky as to have Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy to visit and talk with."

Moira's eyes widened. Due to the Thompson's social standing being slightly lower than mine and my family's, Moira has always been in awe of my father's relationship with the great Darcy family, and knew how I was friends with the son and heir to that grand estate, a connection that Moira thought put me far above her in society and sometimes made her think that I should leave her behind and move upwards and onwards. You can imagine how difficult it has been convincing her that, despite my family being wealthier and of a slightly higher rank than hers, I much preferred her company than that of women in my class. Moira was sweet, amusing, kind, and a joy to be with, for she was never dull or flighty. She had been my friend for ages, and I would rather be friends with her than the greatest lady in town. 

"Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy!" she cried. "Oh, I'd heard he'd married, though I thought for sure that it would be _you_ he would choose, and not some country gentleman's daughter. Oh, Belle, you must have been shocked upon hearing about it!"

I waved her comment aside with a smile. "No, I am glad that he found someone he loves. Really, Darcy and I never cared for each other that way, and would not have made each other happy. We are more than content to remain friends."

Moira looked relieved. "And what about Mrs. Darcy? Have you met her as of yet?" 

My friend's thirst for news and gossip was endearing, and it was an old amusement of ours for me to relate what was happening in the higher circles, and then trade jokes about it with her during our long private visits. It kept Moira in the stream of information, and provided entertainment for us both, as we did not much like the arrogant upper society circles.

"Mrs. Darcy is quite amiable, and she has a first rate mind, as well as a sharp sense of humor," I replied. "I've had the pleasure of going walking with Elizabeth in the park, and like her very much. Fitzwilliam was quite fortunate in finding such a woman."

"As opposed to Miss Anne de Bourgh, I think." Moira's eyes danced. "Lady Catherine must have been quite upset upon hearing that." 

As my friend, she knew that it was Lady Catherine's greatest wish that her daughter marry Fitzwilliam, and had it not been unladylike, I would have snorted my amusement. "No doubt everyone within riding distance of Rosings Park has heard her disapproval of the match. Still, as much as I dislike her mother, I feel rather sorry for Miss Anne."

Moira shook her head. "With a fine fortune and the title she is bound to inherit, I think that, sickly or not, Miss de Bourgh will find a husband eventually, though he may not be as grand in breeding or wealth as the Darcy's."

Our talk went on about the wellbeing of our families, and of the parties or gatherings we had both attended since our arrivals in town. Moira had been sure to attend every social function she could, making new friends, acquaintances, and connections that would hopefully bring excellent matches to any children she and Richard might have. Already many of the women she had met found her delightful, and had invited her to call on them again in the future. A few had even issued invitations to parties occurring within the next few weeks.

"But I ramble on. What of you, my dear Belle? I heard that Mr. and Mrs. Darcy had a ball recently. Did you attend it? Did you see anyone interesting?" She meant if I had met a man I fancied or who fancied me.

"I did indeed go, and met a few past acquaintances from my first few seasons in town, but it was the new person I met that was the most interesting." I proceeded to tell her about Mr. Erik Laurent, the French friend of Fitzwilliam's, and what had occurred at the party, including his rudeness and how my encouraging smile towards him might have been interpreted.

"Rest assured that I will speak to Mr. Laurent when I next see him and explain myself to him. Hopefully he will not be angry with me when he finds I was merely trying to be helpful towards him."

Moira looked thoughtful. "I think that it would be best if you were to apologize before you explain. It would soften things significantly between the two of you, and make him more open to a possibly friendship. As you both are connected to the Darcy's, and will doubtless meet again in the future, it would do you no favors to be enemies, for the Darcy's could hardly invite one of you to a party and not the other."

I sighed. "You are right. It would be terribly unfair to Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth, especially when Mr. Laurent has been such a close friend of Fitzwilliam's for years. I will try and apologize the first opportunity I have."

We spoke a few moments longer, and by then it was late morning. I would have to return to my uncle's to dress for tea with the Darcy's. Hopefully Mr. Laurent would be there so that I might clear the air between us.

With a final farewell to Moira, Ellis and I rode back to Sir James's home for luncheon and a rest before I went into what I hoped to be a friendly atmosphere this afternoon.

* * *

The next morning, Erik woke feeling much less ill-humored than he had the previous night. Perhaps it had been the long journey combined with the situation in France that had made him so offended with Miss Annabelle Woodworth.

Growing up a gentleman in both France and England, he had frequently heard from other men, both old and young, that the ideal wife would be beautiful, quiet, rich, and elegant in manners. Certainly all of his classmates at Cambridge thought that would be the sort of woman they would marry, though there was no doubt some would have to settle for a plain-looking wife, or a wife that was silly or foolish. 

Although cleverness was not required in a wife, Erik knew that both he and his friend Fitzwilliam Darcy hoped to one day marry a lady who had some semblance of intelligence, or at least a fondness of reading something more substantial than the society pages of the paper.

'_Well, at least one of us has managed that_,' thought Erik as he finished shaving.

Even Bingley, the good-mannered and somewhat-flighty man that he was, had married a woman with a steady head. According to the talk amongst Darcy's servants, Charles Bingley was wedded to a Miss Jane Bennett, the elder sister of Elizabeth, and it was rumored that Mrs. Bingley was even more beautiful than her younger sister. 

'And _Mrs. Darcy was quite the handsome woman_.' Erik sighed. '_If only I could be so fortunate as to find such a lady_.'

Of course, it had taken years for both Darcy and Bingley to find wives that suited them, but Erik was older than them by a good few years, and believed that, as the eldest of his friends, he should have been married first.

He clutched the towel in his hands and twisted it. '_I __**would**__ have been married first, had it not been for that wretched Viscompt_!'

Oh, Christine…she was everything that Erik felt a woman should be: beautiful, graceful, well-mannered, of good breeding, and had a good head for music, art, and dancing. It was also said that Christine knew how to run a household even at the age of 18, thanks to her mother's influence on her education. What else could a man ask for in a wife?

The image of Annabelle Woodworth flashed in his head. Impudent girl, to be so bold in her amusement of him. And to give him such a pitying smile on the dance floor, in public! Bad enough that the rest of the world was staring at him and his mask.

Looking into the mirror, Erik studied the mass of red, peeling, lumpy flesh that was the right part of his face. It wasn't as bad as before, but it hurt to look at it. It would take a strong woman indeed to put up with looking at that every day. Perhaps that was why Christine had not chosen him.

Sighing, Erik put down his towel, dressed, put on his mask, and went to join his friends for breakfast.

* * *

The day was relatively quiet, with the host and hostess sleeping late into the morning, as was usual after a party. Thus, Erik ate alone at the large table, but he had the morning paper for company, and made good use of the silence to catch up on the local news and gossip. 

The rest of his morning was spent in the library, skimming through Darcy's collection of literature and science books to pass the time. He heard the servants clattering around the halls close to noontime, meaning that Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were awake and needed to be seen to. Both appeared in the dining room just as luncheon was served, and both looked refreshed and very much awake.

Conversation over lunch was light and entertaining, everyone talking about things they all might do in town that evening. Fitzwilliam wanted to attend a concert in one of the larger parks, while Elizabeth desired to go to the theater or the opera. Both asked Erik his opinion, and he voiced his desire to attend the opera as well.

Darcy sighed. "I see where I am beaten," he relented. "But let us invite Annabelle to come with us, at least as a companion to you, Elizabeth."

She smiled. "Goodness. First a party, now a night at the opera! You will tire the poor woman out before the week is even up."

A soft, affectionate look filled Darcy's eyes. "It is because I do not wish for her to remain at home with that aunt of hers hovering over her shoulder all night. If it were up to Sophia Cartwright, Belle would attend the least amusing parties and spend all of her time listening to dull conversations until she became mad with boredom."

Erik looked at him skeptically. "Since when do you desire to rescue damsels from overbearing aunts?" he asked. "I don't recall you showing this trait before."

"Annabelle Woodworth has been a dear friend of mine for many years," Fitzwilliam explained. "We played together as children, for our fathers were old schoolfellows, and throughout our acquaintance, we have attempted to aid each other in situations such as this. Belle has helped save me from many endlessly dull evenings with scheming mothers and aunts, the least I can do is return the favor."

Darcy's account of Miss Woodworth's past behaviors and actions sent Erik into a state of deep thought, forming the idea that perhaps she was not as dislikable as he previously thought. Her kindness towards others, as well as her situation with her family, likely made her empathic to the feelings of those around her, and as such, Miss Woodworth did her best to make everyone near her comfortable.

'_It might be best for me to give her another chance, if only because she is so close to Fitzwilliam_. _That smile you once thought of as a pitying one might just have simply been a smile of comfort and kindness towards you_.'

Normally, Erik wouldn't consider such a thing, but it appeared that he might as well attempt to be civil, if only because his hosts liked the girl. And she was a fairly good dancer, which spoke highly of her enjoyment of the presence of others.

The meal ended with everyone agreeing –reluctantly, on Erik's part– that Annabelle would accompany the three of them to the opera that evening, if it was permitted by her family.

Once they were finished, the three retired to the sitting room, where Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam settled into a game of chess while Erik selected a book that had caught his eye earlier. It was just about time for tea when there was a knock on the door, which was swiftly answered by the butler. A moment later, the man entered the room with a bow.

"Miss Annabelle Woodworth, ma'am," he announced.

Elizabeth looked up sharply from her game of chess. "Oh, goodness, I'd quite forgotten to tell you that she would be joining us for tea, Mr. Laurent," she said worriedly. "I hope that you'll forgive me."

He had no time to answer, because at that moment, the subject of their talk glided in, a smile on her lips as she looked around at them all.

"Good afternoon," she said, curtseying to them. "I hope I'm in time for tea."

* * *

AN: Well, isn't that going to be fun? I guess we'll just have to wait and see what happens next time, won't we? I promise it will be interesting. Hopefully Erik won't be too mad about having to hang out with her all afternoon and evening. Please review?


	7. Tea and a Night at the Opera

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything from _**Pride and Prejudice**_ or _**Phantom**_, even though I wish I did.

AN: Sorry about the cliffhanger last chapter, but I couldn't help it. You know how those things just happen. Anyway, here's the next chapter, and more Erik/Annabelle interaction. Enjoy, and please review!

**Chapter 7: Tea and a Night at the Opera:**

The moment I entered the Darcys' sitting room, I sensed that this would not be a pleasant visit. Mr. Laurent looked positively shocked to see me, and Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam seemed slightly ashamed at my appearance. Clearly, in the excitement of the previous night, both of my friends had forgotten to mention my arriving for tea this afternoon to their guest.

Elizabeth recovered first, putting in a welcoming smile and a slightly apologetic glint in her eyes. "Belle, it is so good to see you," she said before pressing a kiss to my cheek. "I hope that you had a lovely time last night?"

Grateful for her brave front, I smiled and returned the kiss. "Yes, Elizabeth, the evening was wonderful. Was it your first?"

"It was, and hopefully the first of many," Fitzwilliam declared as he came forward. "You look very well-rested today, Belle. Normally the day after a party you are still tired and irritable, I'm surprised to see you so cheerful."

I threw him a mocking frown, which he counteracted with a teasing smirk. "Oh, really, Darcy, that is too cruel of you. You know I'm always in good spirits and health the day after a ball or party ends. I wish you would not say such things in front of Mrs. Darcy, for fear of her ceasing to invite me to any further events at your home."

Beside me, Elizabeth burst into a gale of light laughter as she led me forward, directly into the path of Mr. Laurent. The tall Frenchman bowed stiffly in response to my curtsey, and stepped aside to offer me a chair close to Elizabeth's. Fitzwilliam sat across from his wife, and Mr. Laurent sat in a chair across from mine. Tea was brought in by a serving maid, and after Elizabeth poured and served the cups to everyone, we began to talk of all manners of things, though both Mr. and Mrs. Darcy wished to know how I had spent my day before joining them. The fourth member of our party appeared to not care of what had happened to me, so I ignored him in favor of answering my friends' questions.

"I went to visit my dearest friend, Moira Grey, formerly Miss Thompson," I told them while sipping my tea. "She has just arrived in town, and as she has never been here, she asked for me to come and visit and help ease her nerves about changing from the quietness of the country to the bustling life of London."

Elizabeth nodded her head in understanding. "Yes, it can be quite difficult altering one's livelihood. It is still strange to me, being at Pemberley in Derbyshire or waking in London instead of my father's home where I grew up."

She and I began to compare notes about living in the country and in London's society. Elizabeth spoke of her father's house at Longbourn, and I talked of Huntington Hall and my time both there and in London. Elizabeth thought it incredible that I had not yet secured a marriage at my age, as she thought me a fine young woman with a good deal of humor, wit, and fun. How was it possible that Miss Annabelle Woodworth had not yet married?

"Probably because she has not yet found a suitable young man who will appreciate her gifts," Fitzwilliam said before picking up a tea cake. "And if the men of London and Huntington are so blind to the qualities of a young woman such as Belle, then they do not deserve her."

I gave him a warm smile and thanked him for his compliment. "That is very kind of you, Darcy, but I'm afraid that my aunts and uncles would quite disagree with you. They find me rather lacking in manners and believe it would be best if I were dull and mute, for they think men detest clever wives."

He sniffed in distain. "Although I am not against family feeling, I believe that you would be much happier loved for yourself, rather than wedded to a man who believed you to be simple, and who later discovers your true character and decides that you were not for him. No, you would be much better marrying honestly in your display of your true self, take my word for it."

Elizabeth nodded her agreement. "Yes, you would be best married to a man who loved and admired you for who you are," she said as she poured more tea into my cup. "I'm certain that you would prefer to marry a man who had finer qualities than money, a fine noble family line, or good connections."

"Oh, goodness, yes!" I exclaimed. "I have many qualities that I would like in a potential husband, but none of the men I have met thus far have them."

Fitzwilliam looked at me in astonishment. "Really, Belle? And may I ask what those qualities are?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mr. Laurent sit up straighter in his chair, as though he had not been paying attention before but was doing so now that something had caught his interest. I found it odd that he wanted to hear what I had to say about potential mates, but decided it was of no consequence –after all, it wasn't as though he were going to start courting me!

"First, I would like a gentleman with whom I can talk with," I said. "Therefore, he must be witty, good-humored, and well-educated. He must be a good, kind man as well, and treat his land tenants fairly." I sipped my tea. "Oh, and he mustn't be too free with his money, for the last thing I would want is to have to constantly worry about him exceeding our income."

Mr. Laurent spoke up, "But if he were a wealthy man, and if you were to bring a large sum with you into the marriage, I doubt it would matter if your husband were free with his funds."

I looked at him disbelievingly. "I certainly hope you don't believe that," I softly replied. "There have been numerous times when wealthy men and women have lost their fortunes due to their living beyond their means. Sometimes it is no bad thing to spend only as much as you need, if you are happy living modestly."

Seemingly thoughtful, he sat back in his chair and nibbled on a sandwich as Elizabeth asked where I had purchased my gown.

* * *

As their afternoon tea progressed, Erik found himself growing more and more surprised at Miss Woodworth, and against his previous determination, he discovered that he rather liked the girl. She had a sound mind of what she wanted in a husband, and all of her preferences were counted above the thought of money, position in society, and connections in the world.

'_How often is it that you find a lady of good breeding that prefers wit and humor over a large income and a fine house_? _She would rather talk, laugh, and be merry in her husband's company than anything else_.' How very odd…

And what was even more astounding was that he observed that the young lady had a rather pleasant smile.

'_Well, it is pleasant as long as it isn't full of pity and being directed at me_,' Erik reminded himself as he watched her talk with Mrs. Darcy.

And she wasn't a plain girl, either. The lavender dress she wore today was very fetching on her, and brought out the dark color of her eyes. Today, her hair was done up into a neat bun with purple ribbons threaded through the brown strands, and there were a few loose curls framing her face in a very sweet manner.

'_In fact, she's a very pretty young woman_,' he realized, a slight feeling of shame pulling at his heart.

It really had been very bad of him to think of her in such a poor way, especially if Miss Woodworth was a friend of Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth's. Erik knew that they would not put up with anyone foolish or silly, so it should have occurred to him that Annabelle Woodworth was of sound mind and good character, if she was so liked by Elizabeth, who had met her only a day or two ago.

'_Antoinette would be ashamed of me_,' he thought, watching Elizabeth and her guest laugh over something Darcy had said. '_She would have hit me over the head with my own walking cane, just to prove how thick-headed I've been_.' What was that saying his dear old nanny was always quoting to him? Judge not lest ye be judged?

Darcy's voice burst through his thoughts, "What do you say, Erik? Does a night at the opera suit you?"

As though struck by lightning, Erik returned to the world around him. "Oh, yes, Darcy, an opera would be a fine thing, so long as it is the right one. Do you know what is currently being performed in London?"

There was some talk between the four of them, and it was decided that they would see _**The Magic Flute**_ being performed that evening. Miss Woodworth looked thrilled at the prospect, and Erik found himself wondering if she enjoyed opera. If she did, then perhaps he would have a very interesting evening.

* * *

Once Ellis and I arrived home from the Darcys', I went to inform my family that I would be attending the opera with my friends. Aunt Josephine was thrilled and wished me a good time, but Aunt Sophia scowled and turned towards her brother.

"I really do not think that it would be a good idea for Annabelle to be with the Darcys so often," she said. "It would raise talk about her being too near a newly-married couple, and people would think that she was there as a companion to Mr. Darcy, whom she is so close to."

Sir James frowned at her, effectively silencing any further protests by his sister. "Only fools would think that Fitzwilliam Darcy has any sort of feelings beyond friendship for Annabelle. She is of sound reputation, and has many great connections through me and her father and mother."

Aunt Josephine also looked disapprovingly at Aunt Sophia. "It is a good thing for her to be out and about with Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, for if she is with them, then she will surely be introduced to their friends, some of whom might be unattached gentlemen."

I doubted that I would find a husband amongst those in the Darcys' acquaintance, but said nothing as I was rushed upstairs by Ellis. The moment we were in my room, she began laying out an evening gown and other necessities while another maid brought me something to eat. There would undoubtedly be refreshments served to us at the opera house, but I would need something now so that I did not faint later.

After I had eaten, I put on the gown Ellis had chosen for me, a red silk garment trimmed with heavy gold embroidery in the form of vines and leaves. Little gold flowers and thin gold ribbons were woven into my hair, and a small clip decorated with red and gold feathers was added to complete the look. Rising from my chair, a black cloak with red satin lining slid over my shoulders, and I was ready just as the Darcys' carriage arrived at the front door.

Pulling up my hood to ward off the evening chill, I allowed the coachman to help me inside, where I was greeted by only two faces instead of three.

"Mr. Laurent had business to attend to before joining us this evening," Darcy explained. "He will meet us at the theater, and ask for our box when he arrives."

Nodding, I settled into the seat just as the coach pulled forward.

* * *

Tilting his head back, Erik never felt so grateful for Nadir as he was now. The older man had finally recovered from his bout of seasickness, and had arrived in London with just enough time to help his master and employer ready himself for the evening.

Presently, Nadir also had a few letters tucked into his pocket, one for Madame Antoinette Giry, one to a man in London who would be Erik's eyes and ears in looking for a house in town, and another to Erik's London banker. All three letters would be sent out or delivered immediately by Nadir, thus taking a few burdens off of Erik's shoulders and leaving him free to enjoy the night's performance.

"There you are, all finished," the Persian said, smoothing one last bit of lace and silk at Erik's neck. "I hope that you are being civil to everyone, despite being in a foul mood over the loss of Miss Day."

Erik frowned, but dared not meet the knowing dark eyes of his friend and servant. "I have been as civil and polite as I possibly can, given the circumstances," he muttered. "Is there a coach outside?"

Nadir gave him a skeptical look. "Yes, though I don't know why you did not go with the Darcys." He offered Erik a black coat. "This business in looking for a London house could wait a few days, you need not have composed that letter today and give yourself such short time to get ready."

Unwilling to answer, Erik adjusted the coat so that it fit better on his broad shoulders. Behind him, he knew that Nadir was wearing a smile, but refused to acknowledge it.

"Ah, you are trying to avoid someone," the old man teased. "And since you are both trying and _not_ trying to look your best, I can only assume that it is a woman."

He didn't flinch from Erik's glare as most would have –after all, he was used to it. "Now, now, it's perfectly acceptable for you to move on from Miss Day. That young woman wasn't worthy of you, and if you had paid attention to me the first time, you would have known that."

With an indignant huff, Erik turned and left Nadir without a word, though he could hear the old man laughing behind him. He really shouldn't be angry, since Nadir knew him as well as Antoinette did, but it was so frustrating when both of his friends could read him like an open book and take him to task so easily. Thankfully, Nadir wouldn't be accompanying him to the theater, leaving Erik alone with his thoughts.

The carriage ride was blissfully quiet and uneventful, and he arrived just as the last call was made for patrons to take their seats. A quick inquiry to a young usher directed him to the Darcys' box, and once he opened the door, Erik found himself halting in his footsteps at the sight of the vibrantly dressed young lady before him.

"Oh, Mr. Laurent!" gasped Miss Woodworth before smiling in relief. "You startled me."

Barely remembering his manners, Erik bowed in response to her curtsey. "Forgive me, Mademoiselle," he said, accidentally invoking the French address for a single woman. "I did not mean to frighten you."

She smiled and motioned towards a chair. "Please, sit. I'm afraid that Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth have stepped out to speak with a few friends, and I believe that Mrs. Darcy's sister, Mrs. Bingley, is here with her husband as well, just a few boxes down. They will hopefully be here shortly."

Gratefully taking the chair, Erik watched Miss Woodworth take a seat next to his, leaving the two chairs on her opposite side open for their friends. As she began reading through the program, he studied her closely. The red silk of her gown was stunning on her, far better than the silver dress from last night's party. Along the neckline and sleeves was a line of elegant – and possibly very expensive – gold embroidery, and her mass of dark hair glittered with ribbons that matched her gown.

'_Darcy was right about the men in London being blind fools_,' he thought, quickly looking down at his own program.

Erik gave himself a quick mental slap. No, he could not think anything of this woman. Granted, she was uncommonly pretty and had a good head on her shoulders, but it was not worth the risk of another bout of heartache. Christine had showed him that no woman could possibly find him attractive or worthy enough to marry, not with his face.

Quickly turning his heart cold, Erik turned his eyes towards the audience gathered below them, suddenly very glad for the distraction it offered until the return of Darcy and Elizabeth.

* * *

The Darcys arrived just as I felt Mr. Laurent turn cold against me, but for what reason I didn't know. He had been surprised to see me alone in the box, and I could sense his eyes upon me for several moments, but for him to suddenly slight me was hurtful and confusing.

However, I put that out of my mind and turned my attention towards the performance, which began only a moment after my friends returned. The soprano playing the Queen of the Night was glorious in her role, and Fitzwilliam and I exchanged whispers about how much better she was than the previous songstress.

"Her voice isn't as flat and trembling as the former soprano," he muttered.

I tried hard not to laugh. "What was her name again?"

"Carlotta," Darcy whispered. "Horrible woman, couldn't sing to save her life."

Biting the inside of my lip to keep from laughing, I turned back towards the opera, which I rather enjoyed, though I did not understand the words. I had heard of the story before from my father, so I knew what it was about, and was therefore able to enjoy the talents of the singers, dancers, and orchestra with little trouble.

When the time came for the performers to rest and the audience to stretch a bit, three young men arrived at the Darcys' box, one with a tray of food, one with four crystal glasses on a tray, and another with a bottle of champagne. The drink was poured and served quickly, and the food was placed at a table that had been stored in the far corner so that no one had to carry it upstairs.

As we enjoyed the food and drinks, I told Elizabeth of my admiration for Mozart, and of the wonderful story it told. She heartily agreed and we began comparing which of his compositions we enjoyed most, and why until the opera resumed twenty minutes later.

Once the opera was over, throngs of elegant men and women flooded the hallways, many stopping to speak with friends, relatives, or acquaintances before they left for supper, a ball, or home. To my delight, I was able to see Mr. Bingley, and was introduced to his wife, whom I found to be the kindest, gentlest creature imaginable. Mrs. Bingley was very beautiful, her looks the complete opposite of her sister Elizabeth's. Compared to Elizabeth's dark looks, Jane Bingley was fair-haired with light grey eyes, but had the same lovely porcelain skin. They also shared sweet dispositions, and I felt honored to know such wonderful ladies.

I was disappointed when they said that they had to return home, but I was invited to tea at the Bingleys in two days, which I very much looked forward to. With kind parting words, I bid farewell to the Bingleys, and when the time came, to both the Darcys and to Mr. Laurent, who was kind enough to give a polite nod when I bid him goodnight.

Tired from the long day and evening, I went straight to my room to let Ellis help me undress, and was able to eat a light dinner before falling into a deep, dreamless asleep.

* * *

As he readied for bed, Erik mentally went through what had happened this night.

The opera had been one of the best he had ever seen in London, given that, due to the privacy of the Darcys' box, he hadn't had anyone stare at his mask and make him feel outcast. Best of all, the evening had ended with the pleasantness of seeing Charles Bingley and his new bride. Mrs. Bingley was as lovely as Darcy had told him, and as sweet-tempered as anyone he had met. Both of his Cambridge friends were fortunate indeed in their wives.

Memories of Miss Woodworth talking of _The Magic Flute_ to Elizabeth and trading quiet jests with Fitzwilliam came unwillingly to mind. Shaking his head, Erik banished them to another place. No, she was a lively and amusing young woman, but a friend was all she would remain to him. Anything else was not to be borne.

Sighing, he placed his mask on his bedside table, wrapped himself in his sheets, and fell asleep.

* * *

AN: Hmm, I think things are starting to brew between them. Please review! Thanks!


	8. Encounters in the Park

Disclaimer: I wish that I owned dear Erik and all things _**Pride and Prejudice**_, but those characters already belong to someone else, and so are not mine. Only original people/places/things are mine.

AN: Lots more of Erik and Annabelle together in this chapter. Hmm, some alone-time with Erik…doesn't that sound like fun? Please read and review. Thanks!

**Chapter 8: Encounters in the Park:**

The day after the opera, with no invitations to visit friends and thus no excuse to leave the house, I knew that I would soon be trapped into the terrible task of keeping my cousins company, or worse, my Aunt Sophia.

To my disappointment, there would be no rescue from Aunt Josephine, for she was tired again today, and would not leave her room, though she did join us for breakfast before going back upstairs to rest. Uncle had gone out to his club or possibly to visit friends, which left me at risk of being a companion for two spoiled children or a rather disagreeable aunt.

Thankfully, Ellis had formed an escape plan that all of the other servants agreed with. Most of the help in the house disapproved of the way Aunt Sophia ruled the house while their true mistress was ill or resting in bed, treating the place as though it were her own, and so the maids, cook, and butler all took pity on me, the unfortunate niece who had to suffer under her firm grasp. Thus, they took it upon themselves to help me slip out of the house this very afternoon.

Of course, I did not know of their plans until after breakfast, when I excused myself to my room in order to compose letters to my parents and brother. As he had never been to London, Nathaniel was eager to know all of the delights and diversions that the city had to offer, and Mama would want to know if I had met any eligible, wealthy men. Dearest Papa merely wanted to know if I was alright and if I needed any more money to spend.

To Nathaniel I wrote about the party I had been to at the Darcy house, and of the opera. To Mama I also wrote about the party and opera, and informed her of some of the latest fashions I had seen, which I knew she would copy in her own wardrobe as soon as she could.

My note to my father was very short by comparison to the ones I had composed for my mother and brother, but then, Papa disliked letters that were not straight to the point. I merely told him I was having a fine time, and that it was not necessary to send more money as of yet. However, I knew he would not listen and send a fair amount to me anyway, and who was I to argue with him?

When the last letter had been sealed, the edges neatly trimmed and the front addressed, Ellis told me that the cook would distract my aunt with a list of food purchases that would need approval, and that I was to slip out the door while the two of them were in the study. If asked where I was, the servants would claim that I had gone out walking and shopping in town and would be back for dinner.

Knowing I had little time to spare, I put on a heavier gown for today, as I had the urge to go riding. Ellis would take some money and go shopping in town for a few lengths of lace and ribbons she felt I needed. This would be proof that I had been shopping, as claimed by the servants, and even though I looked dressed for riding, well, I would say that after spending hours on my feet, a bit of time in the saddle was called for.

So, dressed in a heavy green riding dress and wearing a broad green hat to keep the sun off, Ellis and I slipped through the front door, with me pausing just long enough to smile at the cook as she headed off to speak with Aunt Sophia while the butler winked and quietly shut the door behind me.

* * *

Holding perfectly still, Erik tilted his head back and allowed Nadir to shave the difficult area that was his chin. That damned little clef (Antoinette called it a 'dimple') was so hard to do, but Nadir managed it with little effort, and in moments, a warm, damp towel was swiped over his face, the softness of the fabric soothing against his skin.

'_On the happier side, at least the ruined part of my face requires no shaving_,' he thought bitterly. Since the accident, no hair grew on the disfigured skin, nor on the areas around it. In effect, only the left part of Erik's face, as well as his chin, needed to be shaved each morning.

"There you are," Nadir said in a fatherly tone. "Now, what will you be doing today? I must say that it is a beautiful day outside, so perhaps a walk through town or a park would do?"

Erik frowned and shook his head. A walk through town was not his idea of fun, considering the stares he would get due to his mask. No doubt that all of London's society knew the reason he wore such a thing, but having people stare at him was uncomfortable at best and humiliating at worst. No, he'd best to something else today.

"Perhaps a bit of horseback riding?" Nadir suggested in a sly tone.

_That_ certainly got Erik's attention. If there was one thing he loved, it was going out on horseback on a fine day. Also, the people around him would be too busy looking around at eye-level to notice a masked man on horseback. Yes, perhaps a day of riding through a park was called for. But where would he find a horse in London?

At breakfast, Erik broached the subject with Darcy. The Englishman looked thoughtful as he ate his toast. "I'm sorry to say that I keep no riding horses here in town," Darcy apologized. "It is difficult enough to travel through the streets while walking, and people are quicker to make way for a carriage than a single man on horseback."

Setting down her fork, Elizabeth chimed in, "I believe the parks have horses a person might borrow if they have need of it. Some of them are of good breeding and looks, and most are gentle enough for ladies with little experience to ride without fear of falling. However, as you are the great horseman I know you to be, you could easily request a horse with a bit more spirit, which they undoubtedly have."

Erik decided then and there on the option of riding, and was in his riding outfit less than half an hour after breakfast finished. Nadir trailed along behind him, insisting that he accompany his employer just in case the worst should happen. This Erik declined, for there would be many people around, and if he were to fall off his mount, someone else could easily fetch a doctor or get help.

The nearest park was a short walk away, and the stables were full both of horses and people wanting to ride them. Erik, closely followed by Nadir, drifted down the aisles of stalls, dismissing most of the animals he passed and favoring few. Finally, he stopped before a black stallion with a reddish sheen to his coat, and decided to take it.

A stableman put on the tack and saddle and handed Erik the reins. "Be sure to take him a good distance away before you mount him, sir," the man warned. "He's not been ridden for a good few days and is a bit nervy. Storm Cloud won't bolt, but he tends to shy a bit, so keep a good grip on the reins when you ride off."

Thanking him, Erik pressed a coin into the man's hand and accepted the reins, carefully leading the horse out of the stable. Just as he managed to escape the crowds and hoist himself into his saddle, Erik turned his mount, suddenly finding himself face-to-face with the last person he expected to see.

Miss Annabelle Woodworth.

* * *

After a sweet, golden-colored mare had been chosen for me, I was lifted into the saddle by two kind stablehands. Tipping them each a coin, I settled myself in the leather sidesaddle and took up the reins, slowly directing my mount forward until a man on a large stallion blocked my way. Waiting patiently for him to pass, I was shocked to see that it was Mr. Erik Laurent.

"Mr. Laurent!" I gasped, clutching the reins in my gloved hands.

"Miss Woodworth!" he exclaimed, equally surprised.

A brief moment of stunned silence followed, and it was I who recovered first. "May I ask what brings you here?" I inquired politely.

He then proceeded to look at me in the oddest way, and for a moment, I thought he would not answer, but he surprised me again by saying, "Perhaps we should continue this elsewhere, someplace not quite so crowded and more to the horses' liking."

Startled by his invitation, I nudged my horse to walk alongside his. Studying him out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Erik Laurent made a very handsome picture –his tall, dark looks were enhanced by the dark coat and deep green vest he wore, which brought out the green in his eyes, and even the white of his mask took nothing away from the mysterious air he wore around him like a cloak.

'_His fine looks are enough to send any woman's heart aflutter. So why does every mother, aunt, or grandmother not press their young ladies upon him_?' I wondered.

I highly doubted that it was due to his mask. After all, the man wasn't born deformed, and if he had been, he was clearly handsome, well-groomed, well-educated, and had seen enough of the world to satisfy any matchmaking matron in town.

'_Is it because he's French_?'

I considered the matter. It was certainly possible that his country of origin might turn away some families, but there were several men in London's society that were linked to French nobility, and no one ever complained about them going about town. Besides, Mr. Laurent had attended Cambridge and been educated along side some of the richest men in England, so that should count for something.

"Are you having a pleasant day, Miss Woodworth?"

His words startled me so that I nearly drew my horse to a halt. Apologizing to both my horse and my companion, I patted the poor mare on the neck and urged her onwards alongside Mr. Laurent's stallion.

"Yes, thank you, sir," I politely replied. "And you? Are you enjoying your stay here in town? I'm sure the Darcys are proving to be admirable hosts to you and your servants."

Glancing slyly at him, I noticed a small smile form at the corner of his mouth. "Yes, Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth are very good, and have an excellent home," he said. "I feel quite at home there."

"Their guest rooms are very fine," I commented. "I have had the privilege of staying once or twice in the London house and the grand estate in Derbyshire. Although, because I am from the country myself, I prefer the beauty of Pemberley to any other Darcy residence."

Mr. Laurent turned to gaze at me in surprise. "You are of a country estate? Where, may I ask?"

Puzzled by his desire to suddenly know me better, I decided that this interest was a vast improvement over his rudeness beforehand, and felt it would be best to keep this peace between us by answering his questions. Perhaps, if he was feeling more at ease, he would answer some of mine in return.

"My family home is Huntington Hall, a large abbey that lies a very good distance away from Pemberley," I told him.

Now it was his turn to look puzzled. "If I may be so bold, how is it that your family and the Darcys are connected, when your estates are so far apart?"

"My father and the late Mr. Darcy went to school together, and remained very close friends afterwards. I spent much of my childhood at Pemberley, and was very fond of the old Mr. and Mrs. Darcy." I could not help smiling at the fond memories that floated through my head. "I even have the pleasure of knowing his sister, Georgiana, though I have not seen her for quite some time."

He gave a brisk nod at the last comment. "I do believe that Darcy intends on her visiting them before the social season is too far gone. Perhaps you will be able to see her then."

I laughed. "Then you likely find the hallways of the house filled with music every hour of the day, for she is very accomplished and sings and plays all day long. My mother, when she visited Pemberley once, long ago, found it maddening when she is so used to quiet."

Again, a smile pulled at his lips, though it was far more evident this time than before. "I am sure that I will find the place as comfortable and quiet as before, but I do not desire to impose on Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth for much longer."

We stopped at a pathway that divided into two parts, one that went close to a quiet duck pond and the other closer to the flower gardens. I suggested the pond, as it would provide water for our horses, and Mr. Laurent agreed. A few moments down the pathway, I looked over at him.

"So am I to understand that you are looking for a house in town?" I asked. "It is quite bold of me to say, of course, but I really must suggest you do so quickly. With the season about to start, those who do not own homes in London will be flocking here and snatching up the best houses to rent."

"Yes, you are quite right," he said, looking thoughtful. "I will see what my lawyers have found thus far and tour them immediately. Hopefully one of them will do for my stay."

We had reached the pond, and our horses were gazing longingly at the water, eager for a drink. Mr. Laurent slid down from his mount first, and performed his gentlemanly duty of aiding me down from my saddle. He was quite strong, but the grip he had on my waist was both gentle and firm, which I took to be a good sign in that he did not think so ill of me that he wished to drop me on my head.

For a while, the two of us stood in silence as our horses drank their fill. We then decided to give the poor creatures a rest and lead them with us a way as we went back towards the stables. The quietness between us was slightly awkward, but still pleasant, and we remained so until we were part way back to our destination, which is when Mr. Laurent decided to begin riding again.

I found myself blushing slightly as he once again put his hands on my waist, this time to toss me into the saddle, and was amazed at how strong he was. It was one thing to help a lady down from her mount, but to lift her up as though she weighed nothing was very impressive, and in my state of surprise, I commented on it as he settled into his own saddle.

Green eyes stared at me for a moment, and I felt my face redden with embarrassment. "Forgive me," I apologized. "It was terribly rude of me to say such a thing so forwardly. But I must say that I have never seen a man perform such an act with so little effort on his part."

A soft chuckle from Mr. Laurent's lips startled me, and when I looked up, he was smirking just the smallest bit. "To satisfy the curiosity I'm sure you have, I believe I should inform you that I take great pride in my strength and exercise frequently. I thank you for your compliment."

* * *

It was truly amazing what being outdoors with an entertaining young woman can do for a man's spirit. Erik had been shocked to see Miss Woodworth, to be sure, and had been even more surprised at himself for going riding with her in the first place, and had been dreading what might happen once a conversation was struck.

As a gentleman of great means, Erik had been riding with numerous ladies in his life, and had found most of them to be a bore in speaking with. He had no taste for the latest fashions in clothing, nor who was involved in a scandal that was sure to ruin a reputation. Gossip bored him to no end, and finding a woman with even the remotest bit of common sense was difficult, particularly when most men deplored a clever woman who spoke her thoughts.

'_And yet, just thought a few nights ago, you believed that a woman with wits and cleverness was not to be thought of as a good wife_,' mocked a voice that sounded remarkably like Nadir's.

Ignoring the voice, Erik glanced over subtly over at the woman on his right who sat so well upon her mare. Today, Miss Woodworth was dressed in a heavy riding frock of emerald green with a matching hat to keep off the sun, and looked very well in it. Her posture while riding helped her move easily with her horse, and Erik immediately attributed it to her being from the country and likely having a horse of her own at home.

And although she had been bold in her comment about his strength, Erik was oddly flattered. It had been some time since anyone had given him a sincere compliment –most others had been about how 'well' he looked, which was always followed by a socially polite smile that was almost a grimace. Miss Woodworth's blush after her words, accompanied by a shy smile, made what she said quite genuine, and for that, he sincerely, albeit silently, thanked her.

The ride back to the park's stables was quieter than the ride out, but it gave him time to think about what he had managed to learn about his companion. Annabelle Woodworth was obviously of a great family with both wealth and breeding, as indicated by her clothes, her manners, and the connection her father had to the Darcys. True, she had been bold in stating her admiration for his strength in lifting her into her saddle, but had promptly apologized afterwards, which spoke greatly of her. And never before in Erik's experience with women had he encountered a young lady who entertained him the way this one had. In the span of an hour, he had smiled and laughed, which had been rare for him lately. It was refreshing.

"I understand that you have been invited to tea with the Bingleys tomorrow," he said suddenly, startling both him and Miss Woodworth at the same time.

"Oh, yes," she blurted out in her bewilderment. "They invited me last night at the opera. I was quite astonished at the gesture, but then, I know Mr. Bingley quite well, and as Mrs. Bingley is Elizabeth's sister, I really should have expected it."

She was babbling, but Erik didn't mind. Her voice was soft and pleasing to listen to, not at all shrill or harsh or cold like other ladies. Miss Bingley, sister to Charles Bingley, had a cool, arrogant tone whenever she spoke, and it annoyed him greatly. How rare it was to find a woman with a voice that was soothing to listen to…

"Did you enjoy the opera?" Erik found himself blurting out. Goodness, why was he suddenly acting like a boy new to the realm of society and saying things randomly?

"Oh, it was wonderful!" she exclaimed with real delight. "I admit to have been to London several times before, but attended the theater and opera only a handful of times, much to my disappointment. I dearly love music, you see, and the wonders of the theater are just extraordinary to watch. I hope to attend another performance again soon, for I know my uncle, Sir James Cartwright, has a box at the theater, though he does not often use it."

At that point, Erik discovered that he was smiling softly at his companion's eagerness and joy. Few people in society had a taste or knowledge for music and the arts, so it was rather interesting to meet someone who was thrilled to visit a theater for the purpose of actually seeing a play or opera instead of to be seen by others as an attendant.

Clearing his throat, he realized that he owed her an apology. "I hope that you will forgive my rudeness at the Darcys' party two nights ago," Erik said reluctantly. "I see now that you were merely attempting to make me feel at ease, and that I treated you very poorly by leaving you so abruptly."

What could only be described as a smile spread across her lips. "I will happily accept your apology, if you will grant me your forgiveness in return," Miss Woodworth replied. "In my attempts to put you at ease, I soon realized that perhaps my smile and words might have been taken quite differently, and so I managed to insult you without meaning to."

She looked up at him carefully. "Perhaps we should start over and begin to become friends?"

He grinned. "I would like that very much, Miss Woodworth."

"Please, call me Belle as Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth do," she pleaded. "We mustn't be so formal if we are to spend so much time in the future together due to our connection to the Darcys."

"Only if you will call me Erik." She smiled and nodded as they finished their jaunt to the stables.

* * *

Satisfied with the day's conversations and events, Erik and Belle returned their horses to the stables. With polite farewells, the young lady dashed off to her uncle's while the tall masked man stared after her, not noticing his servant arrive and inform him that it was time for lunch.

Closely following his employer, Nadir hid a smile, knowing that the slightly dazed look on Erik's face could only have come from his interest in a woman. It was about time he got over that Christine girl and found someone who suited him better. Perhaps that young Miss Woodworth would do the trick…

* * *

AN: A little bit of chemistry between Erik and Belle, with more to come. Please review! Thank you!


	9. A Walk in the Park

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything from _**Pride and Prejudice**_ or _**Phantom**_, even though I wish I did.

AN: I just thought to mention that a pelisse is like a really long coat that goes from the neck down to the ground. My bio page has a link to a site that has all sorts of Regency England (aka: Jane Austen's era) fashions. I hope that everyone enjoys it and will review. Thanks!

**Chapter 9: A Walk in the Park:**

Aunt Sophia was very unhappy when I returned from my day of riding, and scolded me for not informing her where I was going and what I was doing. She also lectured me on my habit of riding, believing it was unfit for a young lady do to so, but I paid her words no attention and instead sat there with a polite look on my face as her words flowed over and around me like a light breeze.

Once she felt she had delivered a sound lecture and scolding, I was dismissed from my aunt's presence and told that she was going to a small, private party with my uncle, and that I was to stay home and tend to anything Aunt Josephine would need. Since Aunt Josephine rarely needed anything from me, and could easily summon her own personal maid to her, I meekly agreed to this and went up to the haven of my room.

For the first time in my present stay in London, I had a peaceful evening to myself. I had dinner brought up to my room, and was able to catch up on my reading a book I had brought with me from home. Ellis stayed with me, mending a torn hem on one of my dresses and adding another length of ribbon to a ball gown until it was time for bed.

The next morning was bright with sunshine, and I woke refreshed and cheerful. Ellis brought a cup of chocolate to help fully awaken me, and once I had finished that, I began searching for a dress to wear to the Bingleys' home. My first few choices were rejected by Ellis, who gave me a scornful look.

"Honestly, Miss Belle, you should wear one of your better dresses, perhaps even a proper tea dress," she said. "Since that Mrs. Bingley is Mrs. Darcy's sister, you can be sure that both Mr. and Mrs. Darcy will be there as well, and I won't have you looking dull and unfashionable in their company!"

We settled on a dusty-gold colored dress with a gold sash around the middle and gold ribbon trim. A pelisse of similar hue to the dress, combined with a bonnet trimmed with brown ribbon, completed the outfit, and Ellis proclaimed it to be a very fine-looking thing.

"Now you'll be just as well-dressed as the others," she said happily.

Shaking my head, I put on a light morning dress of white muslin, pinned up my hair, and went downstairs for breakfast. To my relief, there was only Aunt Josephine seated at the table, a stack of letters, cards, and messages beside her plate as she nibbled her toast and bacon, and drank her coffee. She greeted me with a smile and returned the kiss on the cheek I gave her, and invited me to join her.

"I'm afraid your uncle and Aunt Sophia came in rather late last night, and are still abed with no intention of rising soon," she explained. "Have you any plans for this morning?"

Without the strictest of my guardians to worry about, I could honestly tell her that I had no morning plans, but that I had been invited to tea with Mr. and Mrs. Bingley this afternoon, and had hoped to leave early, as Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were sure to be there as well. Aunt Josephine looked very impressed and excited at my being connected to such known families, and approved of my going out.

"It was wonderful that you were already friends with Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley, but to become friends with their wives is a good thing, too, for as their close friend, it will get you invited to all of the parties, balls, and outings that they are asked to, and that will make your season here far more entertaining."

Silently nodding my agreement, I chewed my mouthful of toast and jelly as a butler poured coffee into my cup. For the remainder of the meal, Aunt Josephine and I talked about fashion, and for once, I was not bored of the subject, for I felt the need to purchase a new ball gown and some walking dresses. My aunt recommended a few colors she thought might suit me, but promised to take me shopping for dresses tomorrow, if she was feeling well enough.

Once breakfast was cleared away, I sat with my aunt in the parlor to read while she embroidered a new cushion that she planned on giving to her daughter, Samantha, for her dolls. To my relief, the nurse and governess had taken the little ones to the park to play, so the quiet was only interrupted by carriages rolling by, dogs barking as they were being walked, and street vendors shouting their wares.

Luncheon was also blissfully quiet, as Aunt Sophia kept to her room and Uncle left to go to his club, which left me once again in Aunt Josephine's company. After the meal, however, she wished me a pleasant time at the Bingleys and went upstairs to rest. Free for the rest of the day, I immediately went upstairs, and was surprised to see there were a few letters for me resting upon my desk.

"The butler knows how rare it is for you to have time alone with Lady Cartwright, Miss Belle, and so he brought them up here to wait for you," Ellis explained. "Don't worry, Miss, they arrived only a moment ago."

They were mostly messages from my family, and could wait to be answered later. Papa, however, had sent over fifty pounds for me to spend, which I found alarming, but Ellis took it in stride, claiming that I would have need of it before long.

"You know how expensive it is to keep up with fashion in town, Miss," she said, taking some of the money and locking it away with the jewelry I had brought with me to London. "You'll be spending that in no time, I've no doubt."

Laughing, I changed into the gold walking dress and matching pelisse, redid my hair with white lace ribbons, pulled on my bonnet, and summoned the carriage. In an instant, I was downstairs and out the door, Ellis trailing close behind me.

* * *

The ride to the Bingleys' home was a long one, but pleasant in scenery, so I did not mind it. On our arrival, a butler bowed me inside and informed me that Mr. and Mrs. Bingley were in the music room. I was escorted there, and after being announced, I walked inside to greet my friends.

Charles was looking extremely well, and as always, was in a good humor. Mrs. Bingley, or Jane, as she asked me to call her, was soft and delicate in a blue gown with white lace trim, the colors setting off her golden hair beautifully. Seeing the two of them side-by-side made me smile, for I could easily see that this would be one of the happiest married couples I had ever seen.

As I took a chair close to Jane's, my heart became heavy at the idea that I would never marry. It wasn't that I was against marriage, of course; I wanted to be a wife and mother very much, but finding a partner I could love and respect was so difficult in society, and the last thing I wanted was a stupid husband who cared nothing for me.

It was Papa who had given me the greatest lesson to be learned upon my coming out into society. He told me that most men thought women were foolish creatures fit to do very few things in the world. If a woman was fortunate in her husband, and if he thought her clever enough, he would allow her to run the house and be in charge of the servants, including the housekeeper whose job it was to run the household efficiently and with a firm hand.

"For most men think that running the home, such as scheduling the week's menu and organizing parties, is women's work," Papa explained. "And if a woman is of a greater education than that of the housekeeping, then she will be in charge of the house's expenses on food, clothes for the servants, and furnishing the rooms of her home."

Also, if a husband were fond of his wife, he would allow her to be affectionately attached to their children, and permit her to care for them herself alongside the nurse and governess.

"But beware, my dearest Belle, against marrying someone for something other than love," Father warned, "for a man with no regard for you will leave you alone and friendless at his estate with nothing to do and no one to see but the servants, and I know you would never want that."

No, a lonely, loveless life would surely kill me. I wanted a good, kind man who wanted to marry me for love rather than money, or if he could not love me, we could at least care for one another as close friends and attempt to make each other happy, as others I know have done.

"Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, and Mr. Erik Laurent, Ma'am," the butler announced.

I froze in my seat. Goodness, what was he doing here? I mentally chided myself. If Mr. Laurent was a friend of Fitzwilliam's, then of course he knew Charles Bingley! Hastily rising to my feet, I made a quick curtsey to my fellow visitors and went to greet my friends with a smile. To my surprise, Erik Laurent smiled in return, his hand reaching out for mine as he bowed.

"Miss Woodworth," he said while pressing a kiss to my hand.

I could not help but blush, for I was unaccustomed to the French mannerisms he was displaying. "Mr. Laurent," I replied.

"Erik," he insisted. "After all, we are all good friends here, and you address the others by their given names, so it is only fair to do the same with me."

A soft chuckle escaped my lips. "As you wish, then, Erik," I said, very much amused. "But only if you will call me Belle."

The two of us sat opposite one another, myself sitting in a chair close to Jane and Elizabeth's while Erik sat with Bingley and Fitzwilliam. For a while, we talked within our separate companies of women and men, but after half an hour, Bingley came to join us ladies, and the two groups merged into one. As Elizabeth joined in talks with her husband and brother-in-law, Erik and I spoke with Jane about the London season and if she had ever taken part in it before.

"I'm sorry to say that I have not," Jane informed us her lovely soft voice. "Our father, mine and Elizabeth's, is of a country sort, and we had not been to London a great deal before our marriages, much less taken part in the great socializing season."

She gave me a smile and a pleading look. "I hope to count you as a friend I can call upon, Miss Woodworth, for Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy speak very highly of you, as does my dear Bingley."

"Please, call me Belle," I said, "for it is what my friends call me, and I would very much like you to be counted as a friend."

I proceeded to enlighten Jane on what was expected of her as the new Mrs. Bingley, the wife of a wealthy man in town, informing her of the tea parties, balls, dances, and other events she would have to throw at her own home or to attend out and about. She asked about the latest fashions concerning dresses, feathered headpieces, hats, etc, all of which I was happy to provide her.

Our talks went on for another hour before Charles declared that it was a fine day and that we should all go out for a walk in one of the nearby parks. The others declared it a fine idea, though we ladies had to see if we were properly dressed. Jane's blue dress would serve well enough if she wore a pelisse over it. Elizabeth, who looked very fine in a pale peach dress, had a pelisse of her own, and since I wore a walking dress already, it was merely the matter of a few moments for everyone to put on their hats and coats before we were all ready to leave.

The nearest park to the Bingleys' residence was no more than a few streets away, so we all followed Charles and Jane down the street to the park, where a steady flow of carriages, horseback riders, servants, and children with nurses or governesses greeted us, all of them driving along the street or moving in and out of the park.

Concerned about the bustling crowds, Charles had tucked his wife's hand under his arm, as had Darcy, which left me walking side-by-side with Mr. Laurent, or, rather, Erik. We managed to cross the busy street with little trouble, but once inside the park, I was nearly separated from my friends by a crowd of children and their three nurses.

To my surprise, a firm but gentle hand grasped my arm and held me still until the flock of youngsters was safely away. Looking up at the hand's owner, I blushed to see Erik looking down at me in concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked. "Perhaps it would be best if you took my arm."

I shook my head. "No, it's not proper for a lady to take a gentleman's arm unless he is her husband or part of her family. I will simply have to stay close to the others while we are walking, that's all."

My escort did not look like he approved, and contented himself with walking as close to my side as society permitted.

Once we reached a quieter section of the park, a place not open to riders and which held no little children, we were all able to enjoy the quiet and talk contentedly about everything and nothing at the same time. Some instances it was merely us ladies talking about silks and muslins for dresses, other times it was the men talking about the price of a good horse for riding around the city and country.

We stopped once to rest in the shade of a tree, the branches overhanging a quaint white wooden bench and providing a natural shield from the sun. Charles, Darcy and Erik went to fetch us all lemonade from a nearby cart, and as we sipped the refreshing liquid, I closed my eyes and savored the perfect moment with this perfect weather.

I heard Fitzwilliam chuckle. "No doubt you're enjoying the quiet, are you not, Belle?" he teased.

"Actually, yes, I was," I retorted while playfully glaring at him. "I can hardly get enough of peace and quiet these days."

Jane looked puzzled. "Are you truly that busy in society?" she asked.

"Hardly," Darcy remarked as he took a sip of his drink. "It is because of her family that she relishes a moment of solitude and reflection."

"It is because I am staying with my uncle, who is my mother's youngest brother," I explained to Jane. "My uncle has two young children who are rather a handful, and since my Aunt Josephine, his wife, is of delicate health, and my uncle is frequently away on business, the children are rather spoiled in that they are allowed to run amok inside the house with little restraint."

"I doubt your Aunt Sophia, who is your mother's sister, is of much help in keeping them in a firm grasp," Darcy interjected, his voice full of distain. "She is an old maid who is living off of the good graces of your uncle, her brother, and takes the greatest pleasure in keeping you in a corner during a ball when you should be out dancing and enjoying yourself. She is doing you no favors in helping you find a good marriage, Belle, by keeping you with her in places you will not be seen."

To my surprise, it was Erik who spoke. "He's right. It might just be that she is purposely trying to ruin your chances at a good marriage simply because she was unable to make one herself during her youthful years in London."

Jane was clearly shocked at the Frenchman's words. "How can you say that, Mr. Laurent?" she cried. "I'm sure that is the last thing an aunt would do to her niece!"

"That is because you do not know her aunt," Elizabeth told her sister. "I have met her and seen the way she acts during a ball. It is appalling that she keeps Belle in a corner, which is where all of the older, unmarried ladies end up. No, it is too true, and I wish that you, Belle, had other company to keep in your uncle's house than her."

"Yes, it must be very difficult being a young lady in a house with no one of equal age to keep you good company," Jane sympathized.

Charles nodded. "Yes, Belle, you must come over very often to visit us. I'm sure Jane and I can provide an excellent escape for you whenever you need it."

Jane promised to send a message for me once every few days so that I would have an excuse to leave the house. Elizabeth swore to do the same, which was quickly seconded by their husbands.

"It seems you are quite fortunate in your friends," commented Erik.

I couldn't resist smiling up at him. "Yes, it appears so, doesn't it?"

* * *

As he readied himself for bed, Erik could not help but rethink the events of the past day.

When Elizabeth had told him about their having tea with Mr. and Mrs. Bingley, he had been nervous about joining them, as Mrs. Bingley was Elizabeth's sister, and that it most likely was a family affair that he did not wish to intrude on. Funny how Charles Bingley and Fitzwilliam, friends of the firmest sort, were now almost brothers through the connection of their wives…

On the other hand, there was no doubt in Erik's mind that Miss Annabelle Woodworth would be there as well. In the end, Erik chose to join his friends, and to his surprise, he was rather glad of it, since he knew very few people in town and would no doubt have been forced to sit alone inside the Darcy house with nothing to do.

He had nearly laughed at Miss Woodworth's look of surprise at him attending the tea, the expression on her face a priceless one as he saw her realize that as a friend of both Charles and Fitzwilliam, Erik was most likely to be invited to almost all of the balls and parties put on by Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Darcy.

The afternoon tea was a delightful one, giving Erik the chance to catch up on news from both of his friends at once while the ladies chatted about whatever-it-was women talked of. Erik simply ignored the light-voiced conversations and focused on what Charles was saying about his sisters possibly coming to visit him and Jane.

Erik was skeptical. "I cannot imagine that Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst approve of your choice of wife," he remarked, briefly glancing over at the fair Jane.

Meanwhile, Erik did his best to ignore the presence of the dark-haired Miss Woodworth sitting next to their hostess. It was rather difficult, however, given how pretty she was in her dusty-gold dress with white lace ribbons woven through her hair.

Charles had laughed and said that, yes, his sisters did not approve of the match, but it hardly mattered to him as he was now very happy. Darcy put in that Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst no longer cared to stay at their brother's house, since they disliked the fact that Charles had married beneath him, and Miss Bingley now stayed at a house that the Hursts had purchased recently in London.

They talked a few moments longer about Charles's happy situation in life, then returned to the presence of the ladies, who welcomed them back with smiles and warmth. Elizabeth began a conversation with her new brother-in-law and husband while Erik joined Miss Woodworth and Mrs. Bingley. As he sat and listened, he thought it very kind of Miss Woodworth to offer her services as a friend and companion to Mrs. Bingley, and was not surprised when both women asked to be called by their first names, as they were sure to become close friends.

The walk to the park was Charles's spontaneous idea, and one that Erik quickly disapproved of upon seeing Miss Woodworth almost attacked by a mob of unruly children. Where most women would have had a fit of hysterics, Erik was surprised to see her remain so composed that she waved aside the offer of his arm. He didn't know why, but for a moment, he was rather disappointed that she had refused him.

Their walk was pleasant, despite the fact that the others did not notice the stares and looks people were giving him every so often, but Erik was able to ignore all of that in favor of the new information he was able to obtain about Miss Woodworth. The poor creature was trapped in a household with a neglectful uncle, a sickly aunt, two spoiled children, and another aunt who would rather see her niece fall into spinsterhood than succeed in finding a marriage.

For the first time in years, sympathy for another had swelled within his heart, and he felt the need to offer comfort instead of receive it. How strange it was to feel these emotions again after so long!

Sighing, Erik sat on the edge of his bed and closed his eyes, his vision suddenly filled with the image of a smiling Annabelle gazing up at him, soft brown curls framing her face in a very pretty manner.

Shaking his head, Erik opened his eyes, sat up, and blew out the candle.

* * *

AN: Aw, Erik's softening up a little bit, now that he knows more about Belle. Let's just hope it lasts! Please be kind and review. Thanks!


	10. The Library

Disclaimer: I wish that I owned dear Erik and all things _**Pride and Prejudice**_, but those characters already belong to someone else, and so are not mine. Only original people/places/things are mine.

AN: I hope that people will like this chapter, because Erik starts liking Belle a bit more during it. Please leave a review to tell me what you think. Thanks!

**Chapter 10: The Library:**

The weeks that followed my walk with the Bingleys, the Darcys and Erik Laurent passed very quickly, as I was invited over to both homes quite frequently. Whenever Jane or Elizabeth held a tea party, or went out for walks in the park, on drives through town, or to visit the many shops around London, I was asked to go along as well, and was always happy to do so for the pleasant company and atmosphere that both women provided.

Thus far, I must say that I was having a far better time in London than I'd had in my previous visits, for I had dear friends to see, and whom I could spend a great deal of enjoyable time with. The past times I had been in London, I had been forced to do everything under the eyes of my aunts, uncle, and occasionally, my mother. As was the social rule, young women were not allowed to attend any sort of gathering without another young lady present, or barring that, a relative or servant of some sort. As I'd had no friends in London during those times before, I had been dragged about by my family to the homes of people I did not know and forced to spend time with people I did not like. This arrangement had put me in a foul temperament during my stay, and had forced me to form a dislike of London and most of what it had to offer me.

This time was far different. I had friends in town now, and they were of the best sort a person could ever ask for. Fitzwilliam with his sharp remarks, wit, and sense of humor, along with Elizabeth's, made me laugh at everyone and everything. Charles Bingley with his sunny disposition, easy manners, and light laughter was a joy, for he offered a lightheartedness that was rarely found in society, and Jane's comforting presence made me feel at peace. Truly, there were no four people I would rather be with.

My oldest friend, Moira Grey, had me over once or twice more to her house, but sadly had no further time for me. Our worlds were quite different now that she was married and settled into a certain level of society that was not of my own. As Mrs. Grey, Moira had many parties at her house, and attended those thrown by people her husband knew. These were functions that I, as a Miss Woodworth, could not attend without raising eyebrows and disapproval from my family. I was beyond Moira's social circle, and she was, I'm terribly sorry to say, below mine. Our worlds were far apart now, though we could always meet one another in town and perhaps have tea in public together. Anything further than that was not to be borne by either my family or Moira's husband and new acquaintances, who would say she was reaching too high in her friendships. It was time for us to move onwards.

Unfortunately, in my friendships with the Darcys and the Bingleys, there was one little frustrating thing that troubled me, and that was Erik Laurent.

Although we had agreed to become friends so that we may call one another by our first names, I still found the variations in his actions and words towards me an annoyance. Sometimes, if I should happen to encounter him, Erik would be welcoming, giving me a small smile and a nod whenever we met, and would be kind enough to speak to me in a friendly manner. Other times, he was strangely cold and would not acknowledge my presence unless someone else brought up a subject the both of us found interesting, which would cause us to join together in conversation. Honestly, the man was maddening!

The other frustrating barrier that stood between my having a glorious time in London was Aunt Sophia.

For reasons I had yet to discover, she did not approve of my going out and about with the Bingleys or the Darcys, and if she'd had the power to do so, would likely have forbidden me from visiting their homes. As it was, Aunt Josephine and Uncle James were delighted in my closeness with such wealthy and well-known families, and often supported me whenever Aunt Sophia voiced a complaint about it. Recently, Aunt Sophia's most favorite saying was, "I still feel that it is not right for Annabelle to spend so much time with Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Darcy."

Uncle would then glare at her and say, "Having such great connections to the Darcys can only help Annabelle along in society, and it is only natural for her to go out and about town with Mrs. Bingley, as the Bingleys and the Darcys are close friends and family. Since Annabelle is already familiar with both Charles Bingley and Fitzwilliam Darcy, it would look terribly odd and rude for her _not_ to become friends with their wives."

"I have had the pleasure of meeting both Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Darcy in the streets during a walk, and find them to be lovely, charming women," voiced Aunt Josephine, which drew an affectionate smile from her husband. "I can see no harm of Annabelle being friends of theirs. After all, they are not wicked women, and I find them most pleasing to talk with."

After the first few disagreements with her brother and sister-in-law, I was relieved when Aunt Sophia gave up her crusade and merely went quiet whenever a note or invitation arrived for me, asking me out to one house or the other. She would watch as I wrote a reply, changed into the appropriate dress, and frown disapprovingly as I vanished out the door, often with Ellis close behind me.

Of course, I knew that her silence was only for when my uncle and aunt were in the room, and her opinions were quite loud whenever she and I were alone together. I was often forced to listen to lectures on how I should not agree to attend so many outings, teas, or walks with Jane and Elizabeth, and that when I did accept their offers, I was not to remain with them too long and overstay my welcome. Thanks to the teachings of several instructors and my mother's sound advice, I was able to wear a mask of politeness while these criticisms went on, but quickly forgot them the moment my aunt freed me from her grasp.

Today, however, was quite different. I had not heard from either the Darcys or Bingleys for several days, and as I no longer had anything new to read, I felt it was my duty to reach out to them for a change. Thus, I sent out a quick note to Elizabeth and Jane, asking them to join me this afternoon, if it was permitted, and to send a reply as soon as they wished.

I then sat and waited for their return messages.

* * *

Glancing over the note in her hand, Elizabeth Darcy could not help but smile. Beside her, Fitzwilliam sat going over a list of guests she wished to invite to a ball she would be hosting within a few weeks' time. The smile on Mrs. Darcy's face broadened upon seeing the intense look on her husband's face.

"Does the list please you?" she asked lightly, drawing his attention. "If not, I am sure we can make it more appealing to you, Mr. Darcy."

He smiled and shook his head. "No, my dear, it is fine. Most of those listed are of a good sort, and I am glad that Belle provided you with a list of those you might wish to make friends or light connections with."

"Yes, I do not know what I would be doing without her help," Elizabeth admitted with a sigh. "She has been so helpful in telling me who would interest me and who would not, including those who I _should_ become acquaintances with, if only for the sake of social connections that might be important in our future."

"Annabelle Woodworth has been well-taught by some of the best governesses and instructors in England," Darcy replied while handing over the list. "Her mother and father are very good friends or close connections with many noble families, some of whom are full of idiots, cads, or ill-mannered men that are quite capable of ruining their own reputations, as well as their families'. Mr. Woodworth knows how to keep such people at respectable distances from his family, but close to him in regards to business and politics. I know that he would have taught Belle and Nathaniel well in how to handle such people, and how to tell who might be useful or dangerous."

His wife gave him a puzzled look. "Who is Nathaniel?" she asked.

"Nathaniel Woodworth, Annabelle's younger brother, and the heir to Huntington Hall. He will inherit the family's home and fortune upon Mr. Woodworth's death."

"Oh, dear," Elizabeth muttered. "I hope that he and Belle are on good terms? It would seem a shame for Belle to turn out so well and her brother not to."

Fitzwilliam chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "Oh, Nathaniel is a good sort, and from what Belle tells me, has grown into a kindhearted, bright young man who cares very much for his elder sister. I've no fears about him providing a very good life for her, should the worst happen."

That was of great relief to Elizabeth, who had feared for her friend's future in the world. She could not bear to imagine Belle suffering as a poor, unmarried spinster, completely alone in the world.

Changing her thoughts to something far more pleasant, she handed her husband the note she had just received. "Belle has just written me, asking if I would join her this afternoon to visit the library. She has also invited Jane and Mr. Bingley. Perhaps you would care to join us as well?"

* * *

This far in his career, Nadir had failed at nothing Erik had ever sent him out to do. The Persian man was quite good at his duties, though he should have left off working several years ago, when the effects of old age began settling in. However, Nadir rather liked working for Erik, and the job of a gentleman's gentleman wasn't too trying, though some might find it so, depending on their employer's demands and temper.

The tasks usually required from someone in Nadir's post were usually thus: to keep his master and employer looking sharp in the latest fashions, arranging all of the master's clothing on his person, and to make sure that a good craftsman made all of Erik's clothes, boots, hats, and other such necessities. True, Nadir should also be shining Erik's shoes, but that was what the little polish boy who sat on the nearest corner was for, and right now, Nadir had more important things to do than polish shoes.

Presently, a heavy task had been assigned to Nadir Khan, a task that should have been quite simple, and yet, thus far, he had failed his master. Erik had given his trusted friend and servant the job of finding a suitable house for a nobleman of France to dwell in, and as of today, none had met the standards.

Erik's requirements in the house were few, merely asking a place with room enough for Erik himself, Nadir, and perhaps a guest or two, no more, no less. There had to be a decent kitchen, for both Erik and Nadir were fond of good food and pastries, an elegant dining room, and other spaces in which to hold gatherings of small groups, for Erik did not know many people in town and had no desire to hold large parties in his house. A small group of servants would have to be hired as well, for the place could not run itself, and so a butler, a cook, and housekeeper would have to be taken.

So far, none of the house listings Nadir had obtained from Erik's London lawyer were suitable. Some were too small and narrow, for Erik was fond of wide spaces, and some were simply in poor condition, which spoke of why their present owners desired to be rid of them. Nadir had no doubt that there were some first-rate houses being let out, but why were the lawyers to lax in finding them?

"It's the social season," Erik grumbled as he looked over the portraits of the houses brought to him. "Miss Woodworth told me it would be so, and I should have told you to look harder and faster. No doubt all of the finest, more decent homes have been snatched up by families coming in for the blasted season of balls, parties, and assemblies."

As he was about to make a profuse apology, Nadir noticed that something was different about Erik this morning. He seemed somewhat chipper, and for some reason had taken extra care to dress this morning. Today, Erik wore a fine deep blue coat and a vest of matching shade with a gold pattern sewn into it, the white of his neck cloth setting off the rich colors quite well and emphasizing the color of Erik's eyes and hair, which had been combed back perfectly.

"Are you going out today, Erik?" Nadir asked, trying to keep his voice innocent.

Green eyes turned to glare at him before going back to the list of home prospects. "Elizabeth asked me to join her and Darcy on an outing to the library," Erik muttered. "Bingley and his wife will be there as well."

Keeping the smile from his face, Nadir noticed that he had not mentioned the presence of Miss Annabelle Woodworth, the close friend of Elizabeth Darcy and Jane Bingley. As Erik handed back the stack of papers, Nadir bowed and left the room, smirking as he closed the door behind him.

* * *

Privately, Erik had no idea what he had been thinking in accepting the invitation to this ridiculous outing. Perhaps a moment of madness or boredom had been upon him when Elizabeth asked if he would join her, Darcy, and the Bingleys on a walk to the library, where they would be meeting Miss Woodworth, or as he should call her, Belle.

Before he could stop himself, Erik had found his mouth agreeing to go, and was now making sure he looked presentable before they left. His vest was straight, as was his neck cloth, his hair was well-done, and his coat was settled well upon his shoulders. Everything was as it should be.

A knock on his door was followed by a manservant calling out that the Darcys were already downstairs by the door and the carriage was arriving. Hurriedly grabbing his hat and cane, Erik put on the former as he rushed to meet his friends.

Ten minutes later, he was waiting for Darcy to hand out Elizabeth as the Bingleys walked up to greet them. The ladies exchanged kisses on the cheek as the men nodded to one another, and by then, Annabelle Woodworth had managed to join them, looking quite pretty in a pale pink dress with a red pelisse over it, and a bonnet with gold ribbons.

"I'm terribly sorry for being late," she apologized as she kissed Jane and Elizabeth on their cheeks, then complimented them on their dresses. "Aunt Josephine was feeling rather ill today, and said that it was her nerves, so I had to sit with her until she felt better."

From a safe distance, Erik watched as she led the ladies inside the library and immediately began to help them sign up and pay for their joining. As he watched the ladies choose their books from the shelves, Erik decided that belonging to the library would be a good idea, and signed his name up as well. With permission to search the stacks, Erik found himself trailing along behind Miss Woodworth's red-clad form as it traveled from one shelf to another.

Watching her drift amongst renowned titles and authors, a terrible thought came unbidden to Erik's mind. What if she was one of those women who loved to delve into one of those horrible novels that young women were always reading?

In Erik's opinion, if there was one thing in the world that made all women just a bit more foolish, it was a novel. It put all sorts of ideas such as seductions, abductions, and haunted castles into a woman's head, which did her no favors and only sent silly minds into using imaginations to create stories about people that were not true.

Keeping a careful eye on the lady, Erik followed Belle down several aisles and was surprised to see her stop before a section full of ancient history and myths. This was the last place he expected to find a woman, and for a moment, he thought her to be lost amongst the hundreds of texts. When she picked up a volume and began to read through it, he knew that she was right where she desired to be.

Softly, he came up beside her and read a little from the words printed there. It was a book on ancient Greece, and the section Belle had turned to was dedicated to the gods once worshiped there. As astonishing as it was finding a young lady of society in the historical section of the library, it was even more so finding out that she was actually interested in what she was reading. Never before had Erik found a woman who liked reading anything other than novels or the society pages of the newspaper, and he found that he might rather like having an intelligent wife.

The thought of marrying made him inhale sharply and step back from the woman before him, the sound and movements causing her to jump slightly in surprise as she clutched the book with her gloved hands. Belle gave a slight gasp, but one that was almost silent and so did not attract attention from those around them.

Ashamed at having disturbed and alarmed her, Erik gave a bow of apology. "Forgive me," he whispered. "I saw something that startled me."

She gave him a teasing look and a rather playful smile. "Ah, you are surprised that I have not picked out a dull book of etiquette or sermons, nor have I chosen a rather wicked novel."

It was odd how one could feel amused and ashamed at the same time. "Yes, well…" His voice trailed off, not knowing how to reply to that.

"It's is not that I don't enjoy a good novel," Belle went on, closing the book and tucking it under her arm before going to select another. "They are always full of delightful intrigues and the sort of excitement a woman could never experience in her life, unless, of course, some sort of tragedy occurs in her life. But one of those every few weeks is all my imagination is able to handle. I would much rather prefer a book on history."

"May I ask why?" Erik was at a loss for any other words.

She waited to reply until after she had checked out her book, and obtained from the clerk behind the desk the companion to the history text she already had in her possession. It had just been returned, the man said, and if the young lady liked the first, she would certainly like the second.

She politely thanked the clerk and accepted the neatly wrapped bundle just as the rest of their party joined them, each with a book or two tucked under their arm.

"Did you not find anything, Erik?" Bingley asked. "You're normally such an avid reader and I know I have never seen you leave a bookshop or library with less than three or four books tucked under your arm."

"Indeed, the library at the Laurent estate is close to rivaling that of Pemberley," Darcy said, giving Erik an amused look that he did not like.

Stiffening up, Erik excused himself, claiming he recalled a section of the place he had not yet visited, and would be back shortly.

* * *

I watched Mr. Laurent leave with a sense of amusement and confusion before Jane asked my opinion of the book she was taking. It was a book of etiquette for the upper levels of society, and one that most young ladies of my social standing grew up studying with their governesses and tutors. Jane claimed that she wished to read it in reference to her rising in the social world, and believed it would help. I agreed that it was a very good idea, and that I was happy to help her with anything she needed.

By that time, Mr. Laurent had returned with several volumes on ancient Roman history, which I found surprising, as he did not seem like the sort who studied or enjoyed reading about such things.

Within five minutes, we were finished with our jaunt to the library, and on our way to a coffee house for refreshments. We quickly ordered pastries and beverages, which were eagerly tucked into as conversation flew back and forth across the table. Elizabeth informed me of a party she was to give within the next few weeks, and asked if there were certain dishes she should have served to her guests.

"Which includes you and your family, of course," she said.

I suggested a few light dishes of vegetables that were sure to fill the stomach, and were wonderful compliments to the meat and fish courses she was to have. Jane looked very attentive, and I promised to help her with her next soiree, much to her relief.

Our party separated only a few moments later, as I was required to return home to my ailing aunt and to see if any letters had come from my father. I bid Jane and Elizabeth farewell, with a promise to join them for a proper tea tomorrow at the Darcys'. Charles and Fitzwilliam also gave their goodbyes with the prospect of possibly seeing me tomorrow, if only for a short while.

To my surprise, Erik Laurent came forward and pressed a light kiss to the back of my hand. Surprised at his French farewell, I blushed and wished him a good day before rushing for home.

Smiling, Erik discovered that he had learned several things about Miss Belle this day. Besides her good taste in literature and history, she also had an extremely charming blush, one that went remarkably well with her pink dress and red pelisse. The effect of it all coming together was very charming, and the image of Belle's face was etched into his mind, putting him in such a good mood that it lasted well into the evening. This sudden change was noticed not only by Nadir Khan, but also by the very observant Fitzwilliam Darcy, who laughed over it privately with his wife.

* * *

AN: I might push things forward ahead a bit in the next chapter, but I'm not sure yet. You'll just have to wait and see. Please review?


	11. The Darcys' Ball

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything from _**Pride and Prejudice**_ or _**Phantom**_, even though I wish I did.

AN: Yet another ball, though this one will definitely go a bit better than the previous one. There's more Erik and Annabelle together, which I'm sure will make everyone happy, and because it's longer than the usual chapter. Oh, and Belle's hair looks somewhat like Elizabeth's, when she attends the ball at Bingley's house in the 1995 version of P&P. Enjoy, and please review!

**Chapter 11: The Darcys' Ball:**

"Oh, do hurry up, Annabelle!" Aunt Sophia said from outside my door.

This was followed by a fury of knocks from her gloved hand, which made me roll my eyes as Ellis tucked more of my hair up into an elegant knot. Behind me, I felt the breeze of a silent sigh on my head as my maid stated her annoyance of my aunt's interruption. No doubt Ellis felt that her concentration had been broken, for she often went into intense bouts of single-mindedness when helping to prepare me for an evening out.

"Honestly, Miss, how am I supposed to have you finished on time if Miss Cartwright keeps asking if you are ready?" she said around a mouthful of hairpins.

Giggling, I did my best to hold still as lengths of gold and silver cloth flowers were wound around the top of my head and tucked into parts of my hair. I thought it looked overly done and rather gaudy, but Ellis assured me that I would look breathtaking when she was finished.

"Though with your aunt always butting in, I'm not sure when that will be," she muttered.

Finally, my hair was finished, and I was allowed to stand and have Ellis brush out my gown.

Tonight my family and I were to attend a ball at the Darcys', and the house was all aflutter with the preparations. Maids raced to and fro, attending to the needs of both Aunt Josephine and Aunt Sophia, which would explain why they were ready far earlier than I, for only Ellis waited on me and at least three or four tended to both of my aunts during a night like this.

The invitation to the Darcys' ball had arrived some two weeks ago, not long after my visit to the library with them and the Bingleys. It had come in an elegant crème envelope with gold ink on the front, and at first I had been confused as to whom it was from, as it had been addressed to not only me, but to my entire family. You can imagine my surprise when my uncle opened the envelope and read the contents, a look of immense pleasure crossing his face as he read through the lines, first silently and then aloud to the rest of us.

My family could not have been more excited by the arrival of an invitation. Aunt Josephine had always longed to see inside the grand house that the Darcy family kept in town, and because she had previously had no connection to them, she had never been invited there. Uncle James, of course, was as thrilled as his wife at the invitation, and attributed it to my friendship with Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, which he congratulated me on a great deal nearly every day since the note had arrived at the house.

Aunt Sophia, however, was of mixed reactions. She, of course, had been to the Darcy house once before, and it had opened a few doors for her in society, since it was known that I, her niece, was close friends with such a prominent family, thanks to a connection to it through my father. Aunt Sophia had had a taste of a better place in society, and she obviously wanted more, but in order for her to do so, she, as well as the rest of my Cartwright relatives, would have to ride on the hem of my success in order to do so. However, the fact that she had to rely on me to raise her fortunes displeased her very much, and so I did my best to avoid my aunt whenever she was in a foul mood.

Of course, all of this preparation was an attempt by both my aunts and uncle to rise as high as they could in the world because of the relationships I formed in London. Since the Woodworth name and family were of a higher rank than the Cartwrights, Mama was now of a level of society that was beyond that of her brothers and sisters. As a Woodworth by blood, I, too, was raised above my mother's family, which I think is why Uncle James pressed my friendship with the Darcys and the Bingleys, as he hoped to rise a step on the ladder of politics and society.

Sighing, I looked at my evening gown in the mirror as Ellis went to fetch me a cloak to ward off the nighttime chill. It was a lovely dress, and had been terribly expensive, much to my dismay. Mama, however, had insisted upon my having at least two or three of them for the season, and had blatantly told my poor Papa that he had best be ready to send me more money, should I have the need for more dresses like this.

Tonight, my dress was white silk with a sheer white net material over it, glittering with numerous gold beads and crystals sewn onto it. The sleeves were short, and with matching white gloves and slippers to accompany the sparkling gold-and-silver flowers in my hair, as well as the gold pendant around my neck, I knew I would stand out tonight, which was probably the point of Mama having this dress made. No doubt she was hoping that it would attract the attention of a suitor, who would eventually become my husband.

A whisper of satin behind me, and a moment later, I felt the coolness of the fabric slide across my nearly bare shoulders, Ellis stepping in front of me to carefully fasten the cloak. It was a shimmering gold fabric, and when I was fully ready, Ellis told me that I looked quite the sight.

"You'll show up all of those other prissy missus there, no doubt about it," she said proudly. She leaned closer and whispered, "Don't let that stuffy aunt of yours ruin your evening. Be sure to dance a good deal and have fun. Mr. and Mrs. Darcy won't take it kindly if you're miserable at their ball!"

Smiling affectionately at her, I flowed out of my room and downstairs, where my family was waiting. Aunt Josephine was delicate in a blue-and-white gown, a long white feather tucked into her hair and a glittering diamond necklace around her throat. Uncle wore his best black coat, and Aunt Sophia was quite fetching in a maroon dress. We all exchanged nods and were in the carriage within moments, rattling towards the bustling Darcy house.

* * *

Clearing his throat, Erik straightened his collar and called for a glass of water. Nadir quickly returned with it, though he had a rather broad smile on his face that his master did not like.

"May I ask what you are smiling about?" growled Erik as he set his empty glass aside.

The old man merely smiled innocently and took the glass away, leaving his employer to finish adjusting the neat emerald pin in his neck cloth. The pin went very well with his new deep green coat trimmed with told braid, and the collar was lined with gold silk so that it wouldn't chafe his neck and jaw. Gold buttons lined up the front and decorated the sleeves as a bit of gold lace poked out of his breast pocket, where a handkerchief, neatly folded to show its golden trimming, lay in wait for its owner to use it.

Breathing deeply, Erik wondered at his nervousness. It was odd how he had once been able to fearlessly face a room full of people without showing emotion as they stared at his masked face, and now the mere thought of attending a ball was sending him quaking in his boots. How annoying it was!

"Sir, the first of the guests are arriving," Nadir said from behind him. "Will you be going down now, or shall you wait?"

Erik was just deciding to wait a bit longer when one of Darcy's manservants cleared his throat from the doorway. "Excuse me, milord, but Mr. Darcy wished to inform you that Sir James Cartwright's party will be arriving momentarily, and that Miss Woodworth will be accompanying them."

Or perhaps it would be best to go downstairs now.

* * *

Greeting the first of his guests, Fitzwilliam Darcy instantly felt that this would probably be a very long evening, despite the fact that most of the people here were good friends and acquaintances whom he could have fairly decent conversations with. Besides, his coat was new, and rather stiff and uncomfortable. He would have to send it back to the tailor tomorrow in order to have it adjusted.

To his left, Elizabeth looked as easy and comfortable as her husband was not. She fairly glowed in a white dress with a golden sheen to it, her dark hair elegantly pulled up and sporting a modest cluster of white and gold feathers. Her porcelain skin was radiant, for her cheeks were flushed with good humor, and her fine brown eyes sparkled in the light of the candles. Fitzwilliam counted himself very fortunate in having her as his wife.

"My dear Annabelle, how good it is to see you!" Elizabeth cried, gloved hands reaching out to her friend. "And you look simply enchanting tonight."

Darcy bowed his head and gave his friend a slight smile, which she returned with a broad one of her own. "Belle, you do look lovely. Did your mother purchase that gown for you? It seems more her taste than yours."

Belle let out a small stream of modest giggles. "Yes, it is more to her liking, isn't it? Well, it is surprisingly comfortable, and since it is so light, it won't be something I will regret wearing when the room gets too hot."

Looking over her head, Fitzwilliam saw his houseguest coming down the main stairs, green eyes searching for someone in the growing crowd, and Darcy knew exactly who he was looking for. Sure enough, Erik's gaze settled upon Belle, who was turning away to greet another friend behind her. She did not see Erik, but he had seen her, and was now making his way over.

Alarmed, Fitzwilliam caught the other man's eye and subtly shook his head, warning him that it was a bad idea to approach Belle at this time of night. The guests were just arriving, and after half an hour or so of mingling together, the dancing would start, which would be the ideal time for Erik to approach Belle for conversation and possibly a dance.

Much to Darcy's relief, Erik understood the message, and went to stand in a corner to watch the steady stream of people arriving for the ball, though it was clear he was not happy about it. Heaving a silent sigh of relief, Darcy went back to greeting his guests in his usual proud manner.

* * *

Silently cursing himself, Erik tucked himself away from the crowd and snatched a glass of chilled wine from a passing servant. How could he behave like such a moon-eyed fool? Really, he hadn't acted like this since he'd first seen Christine Day at that party so many months ago!

It was all that Annabelle Woodworth's fault. He had seen her in that gown that glittered with a thousand golden stars on a white silk background, and he'd been struck. A woman in a beautiful dress tends to do that to every man, which Erik had seen for himself, as many of the young men in the room were looking her way and probably thinking of whether or not she would accept a dance with them. No doubt that was the whole idea –to dress her up in the finest gown money could buy, then pray that some wealthy man lost his heart to the enchanting young lady in the dazzling dress. How like a matchmaking mother or aunt!

Another glass of white wine steadied his nerves, slowing the pace of his heart and the rush of anger in his veins. Now able to think properly, Erik knew that his previous thoughts about Belle were wrong. She did not deserve insults because she wore a pretty dress; actually, she deserved to be praised because of the very fine way she looked in it. It was so strange the effect of a woman in a beautiful gown had on a man's senses.

Now fully calm, Erik proceeded to keep a close eye on Belle, observing her as she drifted through the room in the wake of her aunts and uncle. He noticed that she greeted quite a few people, exchanging brief words with some and a few longer talks with others. Occasionally, she would rest a hand on a lady's arm and share a word or joke that would send the two of them laughing for a few moments before she went on to the next acquaintance.

Watching her closely, he realized that she would be a fine addition to any man's household. It was clear that Belle was well-versed in polite conversation and making those around her quite comfortable. From his own experience, Erik also knew that she would be tolerant of even the coldest, and cruelest of people, if only to preserve her own public face in society.

'_She really is an extraordinary woman_,' he thought, green eyes focused on her form clad in sparkling white silk.

Glancing at the clock, Erik noticed that three-quarters of an hour had passed, and that now would be a suitable time to approach her. Besides, that odious aunt of hers – Sophia, was it? – appeared ready to tie poor Belle down to a chair near to hers while the other aunt and uncle drifted off to talk with friends. Honestly, was the woman trying to ruin Belle's chance at being happy and amused at a ball?

With a quick pause before a nearby mirror, he checked his appearance and began walking towards the far side of the ballroom.

* * *

I was quite surprised that Elizabeth had taken my advice and invited so many of the people I had recommended. Most of them were friends of Darcy's also, and were therefore quite capable of entertaining conversation, which I knew would be a good thing for both our hosts and the guests. After all, I knew that if there was one thing Fitzwilliam Darcy disliked, it was having to spend time with foolish people.

Not long after we had entered the grand ballroom, Sir James and Aunt Josephine went to speak with a few important diplomats and politicians that normally did not frequent the circles of my family's friends and acquaintances, and so I was left once more in the hands of Aunt Sophia, who had immediately claimed a chair by the windows. Not daring to sigh aloud and risk my aunt's wrath, I flipped open my fan and silently prayed that Darcy or Elizabeth would come and help me the moment they were finished greeting their guests.

To my complete shock, I saw Erik Laurent approaching us, a polite but determined look on his face. What could possibly have him looking so formidable? His manner was almost like Fitzwilliam's at his coldest, but it was quite effective for he was using it in quite a different manner. Darcy was cold and stiff because he disliked socializing with others he did not know or respect, and his distant manner was merely a polite mask. Erik Laurent was using his tall, calculating form to clear a pathway before him through the crowd, and it was working very well, for he was before me and Aunt Sophia in moments, arriving just as the first dance was being announced.

"Would you do me the honor of dancing with me, Miss Woodworth?" he asked with a bow.

A sudden flutter stirred in my stomach, and for some reason, I felt myself blushing. It must be the heat of the room, I thought, and rose to give my curtsey beside that of my aunt. "I would be delighted to dance with you, sir," I replied.

Gently placing my hand in his, I followed him to the dance floor and took my place just as the music began. Around the floor we went, with turns, twirls, bows, and careful steps that took up too much concentration to spare on idle talk. The dance was a complicated one, as well as long, so I was a bit winded and warm by the time the music ended and Erik led me from the floor back to my chair.

"Shall I fetch you a drink or a bit of lemon ice?" he offered. "You look quite flushed."

I happily accepted this offer, but the moment he was away, Aunt Sophia turned towards me with a severe look, quickly telling me in a harsh whisper that I was not to act so forward with a man, that I was not to accept drinks or ices from him, and that I was not to dance with so much joy on my face, for it would appear most improper.

Never was I so glad to see Erik return, for it put a stop to my aunt's lectures and allowed me to enjoy something refreshing and cool. We were able to sit in silence for a short while as we ate our glasses of lemon ice and watched others dance or walk by. I made sure to thank the servant who took our empty glasses away, and by that time, Aunt Sophia had managed to find a few of her close friends to talk with, leaving me alone with Erik.

Our aloneness was brief, however, for our hosts for the evening chose that moment to appear. Fitzwilliam was dashing in black and silver while Elizabeth fairly glowed in a shimmering white gown and feathers in her hair. We all bowed and curtseyed before letting forth our usual friendly flow of conversation.

"You look quite alone and unguarded tonight, my dear Belle," Fitzwilliam said, though there was a wicked gleam in his eye. It was the only sign of humor he showed, for his cold, distant posture pretended otherwise. "Is your aunt off elsewhere?"

I vaguely waved a gloved hand in the air. "Yes, she found a few friends she recognized and went to talk with them. My uncle and Aunt Josephine have gone to mingle with politicians they do not usually encounter in their circle, and so I am alone this evening."

Elizabeth gave me a shrewd look. "Not quite alone," she softly commented, making me blush.

Erik gave her a cool, collected glance. "I am merely waiting the appropriate amount of time that society dictates is correct in order to dance two dances with the same young lady in one evening," Erik replied, his posture as stiff at Darcy's. "Surely there is nothing wrong with that."

Unable to contain myself, I flicked open my fan and giggled behind the white silk material. Elizabeth was able to contain her laughter, though she did smile openly. Darcy, meanwhile, looked upright as always, though there was a twinkle in his eye. Mr. Laurent, of course, was expressionless.

The music started up once more, the third dance of the night, and the four of us stood and watched as the couples filled the floor with swirling skirts, fluttering feathers, and dazzling jewelry. I was able to catch a glimpse of Mr. and Mrs. Bingley on the floor, Jane's stunning blue gown making her stand out against the crowd as she skipped down the center of the dancers.

"Mrs. Bingley looks lovely this evening," I remarked while fluttering my fan.

Elizabeth laughed softly. "Yes, Bingley spoiled her with an entire new wardrobe the day after they were married. Jane protested, of course, but he heard none of it. I believe he also gave her some of his mother's jewelry, the pieces which are meant to go to the son's wife."

I gave her a small mischievous smile. "No doubt Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst did not care for that."

We all exchanged smiles at the thought of Mr. Bingley's sisters and their reaction to their mother's jewelry being given to Jane. No doubt they must have let up a large shriek of protest against that!

Darcy suddenly stood up taller. "Oh, Belle, before I forget, Georgiana will be coming to London to experience a bit of the season, and she would be delighted to see you again. She claims it has been too long since you last met, which is true, as you had last seen her just after our poor mother died. She's sixteen now, a bit too young to be officially out, but if you were to keep her company with Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Bingley, it would make things easier for her."

Since the last time I had seen little Georgiana was when she was a very young child, I was thrilled at the prospect of seeing her so grown up. "I hear she is much accomplished and quite musical," I said. "And I would be happy to visit your home or escort her places whenever she wishes it."

He smiled at me. "Most excellent. Thank you, Belle."

A gentle hand touched my shoulder. "Would you join me for another dance, Miss Woodworth?"

Flushing, I placed my hand in Erik Laurent's and curtseyed to the Darcys. "If you'll excuse us."

* * *

Erik very much disliked the fact that women were obliged to wear gloves to balls, and wished that it were possible to experience the sensation of a warm hand holding another instead of a bit of cloth. No matter how soft a glove, it could not take the place of a lady's hand, especially during a dance, when there was to be a great deal of fingers resting in palms.

At that moment, Annabelle looked up at him, and Erik felt his heart beat quicker, almost in time with the music. The light of the candles and crystal chandelier reflected in her hair and dress, the white silk, the gold and silver spangles in her dress, and the metallic cloth flowers in her brown locks were an astonishing sight to behold.

'_A pity that this is to be our final dance of the evening_,' a voice said in the back of his mind.

He quickly silenced it, but it was too late. The voice was right, for it was improper for a man to dance more than twice with a lady in one night, unless he happened to be engaged or married to her.

'_Of course, you may talk to her as long as you wish. There is nothing wrong with that_,' murmured the little voice. How odd that the voice sounded so like Nadir's…

"And how are you enjoying the night's festivities, Monsieur Laurent?"

Erik quickly came back to the present, putting his arm around Annabelle's waist as the two of them went down the center of the dancers and separated at the end, their palms pressed together into a sort of bridge that the others could go through before continuing on the dance.

"I find it quite well, Miss Woodworth," he automatically replied in French.

She gave a short, gentle laugh and allowed him to spin her in place before moving onwards. "I'm glad, for you do not look as formidable as you did during the previous ball."

Spinning away from her, Erik was relieved that, like most young women of her class, Belle spoke French. And the lady was teasing him –it was all in that smile she had on the corner of her mouth, which was slightly pink with lip coloring. It suited her, and matched the roses she had in her cheeks from dancing and the heat of the room.

With one last twirl, the music and the dance ended, and Erik reluctantly led his partner to a chair by an open window, which she happily sank into. An evening breeze gently stirred her hair, the curls framing her face swinging gently as Belle pulled out her fan and began fluttering it to cool herself.

A thin, pale young gentleman was approaching, looking very smart in his blue coat. "Miss Woodworth," he said with a bow.

"Mr. Morton!" she exclaimed. "How delightful to see you! I had not heard you were back in town. I hope that your travels to Scotland and Ireland went well."

"Quite well, I thank you," was the reply. "If you're not otherwise engaged, would you dance the next with me, Miss Woodworth?"

She smiled and nodded. "I would be happy to."

The other man left, leaving Erik with an unpleasant sensation in his stomach. "A friend of yours?" he softly asked the lady sitting beside him.

Belle merely smiled. "No, he is merely a distant acquaintance. I met him on one of my previous visits to London, and find him dreadfully boring. But if I do not dance with him, my uncle will never forgive me, for Mr. Morton's father attends the same club as Sir James, and so I must keep up appearances."

Well, that certainly soothed his nerves, though he was still unhappy about her dancing with such a dull man. He would simply have to be sure to occupy her time when she wasn't out on the floor, that's all.

* * *

The rest of the night was quite entertaining, for Erik did his best to keep me laughing and in high spirits, so I was quite disappointed when my uncle approached and said it was time for us to leave. Aunt Josephine was tired and wished to return home, so into our wraps we went, bidding our hosts a warm farewell. Before I left, however, Fitzwilliam stopped me for a moment.

"I believe Georgiana is arriving at noon tomorrow. Dare I ask if you will join us for tea tomorrow?"

As the carriage rolled away, I could have sworn that there was a glimmer in Erik's green eyes as I readily agreed to visit the Darcy home the next day. But perhaps I had imagined it…

* * *

AN: Hmm, looks like sparks are flying! Please review!


	12. Georgiana Darcy

Disclaimer: I wish that I owned dear Erik and all things _**Pride and Prejudice**_, but those characters already belong to someone else, and so are not mine. Only original people/places/things are mine.

AN: There are more familiar faces here in this chapter, and I might bring more in, unless this story becomes too crowded. We'll just have to wait and see. Please be kind and leave a review, even if it's just a short one. Thank you!

**Chapter 12: Georgiana Darcy:**

The day after a ball like the one at the Darcy home always left my family exhausted and house ridden. My aunts would keep to their rooms all day, resting and reading through books or letters from friends around town, all of whom were also likely recovering from a full night of amusement and dancing. Uncle, on the other hand, would sleep until a late hour, then be out in London visiting friends or his club, leaving the house to us women and children.

Thankfully, my cousins were immediately ushered out of the house after their breakfast, their nurse and governess remembering how short-tempered Aunt Sophia could be if she did not have enough rest after a ball. Aunt Josephine would be unhappy, too, if she were intruded upon by her children when she wasn't feeling well, so I suppose the children's caregivers must have worked out this arrangement for the benefit of everyone, not just their charges.

With the house quiet from the lack of children and no callers to be admitted inside, I was left to my own devices. In the haze of champagne, the heat of the ballroom, and the glittering spectacle of the Darcys' guests, my family had likely forgotten that I would probably be at the Darcys' for tea, and that I would be seeing Miss Georgiana Darcy while I was there. Oh, well, I suppose I would have to leave a message for them when I left.

As I readied to leave the house, Ellis made sure to fuss over my appearance, claiming this gown and that dress were not fine enough to be seen in by a Miss Darcy. In my amusement over Ellis's actions, I made no effort to point out that some of the dresses she cast aside had already been worn in the presence of Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth.

At last, after hours of arguments and my refusal to wear a dress far too grand for a day at the park, Ellis settled on a pretty white muslin with green embroidery at the collar and a green Spencer jacket to accompany it. I also had a reticule and bonnet of matching colors, and that seemed to please Ellis as she put my hair up.

"You'll be a charming sight, Miss, one that even Miss Darcy will envy!" she exclaimed as the last pin was put into my hair.

"I'm not trying to make Georgiana envious of me," I firmly told her. "She and I were friends once, and making her jealous is the last thing I want."

At that point, Ellis realized that she had gone too far, and been too bold in her words. Curtsying respectfully, she made her apologies and claimed that she had meant no harm, "just looking after your best looks, Miss Belle."

I frowned disapprovingly, which quieted her. "That may be true, but I will not have you assuming that Miss Darcy is as flighty as other women of my class are. She is a good girl, and I'm sure Mr. Darcy has made sure that she has a mind of her own."

Ellis curtseyed again, apologized, and went to fetch my bonnet. I tied it onto my head, slid the gold cord of the reticule over my wrist, and was ready. Since I would be in the presence of friends, my maid did not need to accompany me, but would do so today, if only to escape any questions made by my aunts and uncle in my absence.

Since I did not wish to draw attention by ordering the carriage, one of the male servants signaled a hackney cab and handed the two of us in after giving the driver our direction. We made excellent time, and were actually early for tea. That was of no consequence, for I was joyfully greeted by Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth the moment I was free of my jacket and bonnet.

"Belle, I'm so glad you've come," Elizabeth said, a bright smile on her face. "Georgiana is upstairs and will be down shortly."

I was instantly concerned for the young girl's health. "Oh, I hope she isn't rushing. She must be so tired from her journey from Pemberley, I hope that she managed to have a decent rest and a good luncheon when she arrived."

Fitzwilliam was quick to reassure me. "Georgiana is quite well. She didn't come straight from Derbyshire, but spent last night at a good inn, so the ending part of her journey was short, and she was here before luncheon. A brief rest was all she needed, and I'm sure that she will be ready to see you directly."

It was at that moment, of course, that Georgiana descended the stairs and made her appearance in the main hall. She had grown since last I saw her, and was very pretty. She had always been fair, and had now grown into her looks, her once pale hair now a darker blonde, though her slimness had carried on into adulthood.

Standing in the center of the main entryway, I watched as her eyes lit up upon seeing me, and immediately stepped forward to greet her. To my surprise, she gave me an affectionate hug and proceeded to ask me how I was and if I would tell her all about London's diversions. I eagerly promised to do so, and said it would be better if we were to move elsewhere for our conversation.

Arm-in-arm, Georgiana and I followed Darcy and Elizabeth into a bright, cheerful parlor with a warm coloring of soft gold, brown, and white. We each took our seats around a lovely mahogany table where tea was set up, and Elizabeth poured according to our liking. There were a few moments of silence as everyone sipped and nibbled their way through the refreshments, and once the first cups had been emptied and were in need of being refilled, we partook in conversation.

I listened attentively as Georgiana recounted her days at school and her lessons on the pianoforte. I remembered her being fond of the instrument, and asked her what songs she liked or could play. The list she provided me of her musical accomplishments was startling, and I praised her on becoming so well-educated in music. Blushing, she tried to wave my words aside, but I insisted that what I said was true.

"For there are many ladies who claim to be talented and skilled in playing, but it is not so," I told her. "My own mama insisted that I learn to play, but I am barely tolerable at best, and my singing is nonexistent. Therefore, you quite outdo me in that regard, and your brother and sister-in-law should be very proud of you. I know I would be."

The elder Darcys laughed good-humoredly and admitted, yes, they were very proud of Georgiana and her accomplishments. "She also does wonderful needlework," Elizabeth put in. "I'll have to show you the handkerchiefs she made me for my wedding gift."

I gave the young girl sitting next to me a smile, which made her blush. "And there you have yet another talent that I do not, for even though I can sew a straight stitch, I have no skill with embroidery. My maid does it all for me, and I'm more than happy to pay her extra for it."

Georgiana protested that my sewing was surely not that bad, and proceeded to laugh at the smile I gave her. "Oh, you are teasing me!" she exclaimed. "That is too cruel of you!"

The rest of our tea was just as light and amusing, and after the cups and trays were cleared away, Georgiana offering to play a little something for us. As Elizabeth helped her ready the piano, Fitzwilliam whispered to me that I should feel honored, as his sister did not often play for many people outside of their family and close friends.

"She's very shy, you see, but in a sweet-tempered way that may get her into trouble with some of the young men in town," he proceeded to say as the air filled with the tuning of the piano and Georgiana's practice notes. "I believe you know that some men think a shy lady is merely teasing and playing games with them, and she will need guidance and help while she is here in London."

I was quick to give him my word that I would take great care of his sister whenever she was put into my care. Fitzwilliam gave me a thankful look, and the two of us turned to listen to the talents of the young Miss Darcy.

* * *

When our private little concert ended – with much applause, I might add – Elizabeth made the suggestion that we ladies should go out shopping for a few new things for Georgiana to wear while she was in town. This was greeted with much excitement by Georgiana, who went upstairs to change gowns as Elizabeth and I waited downstairs. Fitzwilliam had fled to the safety of his study, claiming that garment shopping was meant for women, and that he was happy to remain at home and read.

Not half an hour later, the two lady Darcys and I were in the center of the most fashionable shopping district in London. Horses and carriages stood waiting for their owners to return with their purchases, though the sidewalks were filled with ladies of all ages being trailed by heavily burdened servants. Occasionally I saw a very young woman or older girl shopping with their mother, or baring that, a governess or maid.

The first shop was chosen by me, for I was familiar with the dozens of shops that lined the street. Georgiana wanted a new set of gowns for balls, walking, teas, and parties, so I took her to Madame Paulette's dress shop.

At age forty, with silvering brown hair and bright blue eyes, Madame Paulette was a widow who had come to London with the intent to start a dress shop, and had done quite well for herself. As she was French and had a great many French connections, Paulette tended to have dresses in the highest fashions before the other dressmakers. However, given the present distrust that Englishmen and women had for the French, not many cared to have a Frenchwoman make their gowns. I found this very amusing, since those particular women who shunned Madame Paulette always grew very frustrated when they discovered that their dresses were now out-of-style and those purchasing Madame's dresses were at the height of fashion.

The moment we entered the store, Madame herself recognized me and rushed forward to meet me and my friends. I had come here many times with Mama and Aunt Josephine, both of whom had their town gowns and dresses made here, and so I was very familiar and always welcome.

As I exchanged kisses on the cheek with her, I felt that Madame Paulette had a soft spot for me, considering how terribly awkward things always were whenever my mother and aunt came to order their gowns. I was always forced to stand by and sigh with boredom as the seamstresses tried to accommodate every little request pressed upon them by Mama and Aunt Josephine, and Madame always did her best to slip me little things like books or candies to occupy my time as her helpers scribbled down orders. By the time Mama and my aunt were finished, Madame had asked me to call her Paulette, as friends do, and I allowed her to call me Belle.

"Ah, my dear Belle, it has been too long since I have seen you!" Paulette exclaimed in heavily French-accented English. "You look lovely, though I must say that I could have done a better job with that neckline than your present dressmaker."

Elizabeth and Georgiana looked alarmed at her boldness, but I burst out laughing. "Oh, Paulette, I have missed your sense of humor," I said, smiling affectionately at her. "May I introduce you to my friends, Mrs. Darcy and Miss Georgiana Darcy? Elizabeth, Georgiana, this is Madame Paulette."

Paulette gave them a curtsey. "I'm pleased to meet you, Madame et Mademoiselle," she said. "I have not had the pleasure of dressing women from your family before, Miss Darcy, and am honored to have you and your sister-in-law in my shop."

I watched as Georgiana's eyes drifted around the shop's walls, taking in the fine materials and the dresses standing in the window. Her eyes lingered on some of the newest French styles that had not yet caught on in London, but would likely be widely known within the next few weeks. Paulette followed Georgiana's gaze and smiled.

Elizabeth saw it, too, and took her sister-in-law by the arm. "Would you like to select a style?" she asked her. "I'm sure that you've outgrown many of your gowns, your cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam wrote and told me that you have grown an inch or so, and your dresses are a bit shorter."

That was all the permission that both Georgiana and Paulette needed, for the two instantly came together and began sorting through the different stacks of paper with recent styles drawn on them. Elizabeth went to investigate the various bolts of cloth lining the wall, and I went directly to the embroidery threads and ribbons, intent on finding several new decorations and trimmings for future hats, bonnets and dresses. Also, I was going to give Ellis a gift of blue satin ribbons, for her birthday was coming and she deserved something lovely for the outing dress she was making for herself.

* * *

Several hours later, the three of us emerged triumphant, though our purses were significantly lighter. Behind us trailed two menservants from Madame Paulette's shop, their arms full of packages, most of them for Georgiana and Elizabeth. The boxes were full of gloves, hairpieces, ribbons, sashes, and stockings, all in various colors and textures. Georgiana was fairly glowing with excitement and said she could hardly wait for her gowns to be finished, just so she could wear them into society.

"But you must not forget that you are not officially out yet," I gently reminded her. "You will be allowed to attend numerous functions with your brother and Elizabeth, as well as a few with me, but you are not to be searching for suitors just yet. Fitzwilliam will never forgive me if I allow a troop of men to descend upon you and if you end up married by autumn."

She promised me she wouldn't try and attract any men, and proceeded to say how hungry she was. Hearing the bells of a nearby church toll the hour, I realized that it was later than we had thought, and that a stop for a bit of something would do us all good before we went home. Fortunately, there was a place nearby, and as we sank into chairs and ordered tea and pastries, the three of us sighed in relief.

"Goodness, I don't think I've ever spent so much money!" Georgiana said in a soft voice.

I chuckled and patted her arm. "Life is expensive when one is in London, my dear, and you are quite fortunate that your brother loves to spoil you in such matters."

The tea arrived, and after it had been poured, a server produced a tray with our orders upon it. I happily bit into a fluffy confection filled with a light cream and strawberry jam. After half an hour, Elizabeth and I were quite full after our pastries, but since Georgiana was at a growing age, a few cups of chocolate were added to our bill, as well as a few more sandwiches.

Content to sit and watch the crowds go by, we fell into conversation, and Georgiana let slip something she had learned while in Madame Paulette's shop. Since women liked to gossip while being fitted for gowns, Paulette and other dressmakers had most of London's gossip before others in town did.

"Annabelle, have you met our guest, Mr. Laurent?" asked Georgiana. I said that I had. "Well, I've noticed that he is often cold towards us women in general, and now I know why."

This struck me as very interesting. "Do tell," I ushered her.

Apparently this story was not well-known amongst the English, but quite known among the French, which is why Paulette had heard of the tale and Elizabeth and I had not. The story that Georgiana related to us was quite remarkable, and it made me feel terribly sorry for Erik.

It was a story of love and heartbreak, the sort of thing that belonged in a novel. Apparently Erik Laurent had been in love with a young woman in France, and been about to propose to her when his rival for the lady's hand swooped in and stole her while Erik was busy elsewhere and unable to make his intentions for her known.

Christine Day, her name was, and according to Paulette, Miss Day was the beauty of her generation. Lovely, glowing skin the color of porcelain, chocolate curls for her hair, and with talents in music, dancing, as well as able to run a full household with little trouble, she was considered quite the accomplished young lady. It was no wonder Erik and Raoul de Chagny desired her.

With each description of Miss Day, I suddenly felt a heavy weight upon my chest, my own confidence in myself shrinking. It was clear that, although I was rich, I was not yet married at the age of twenty-five, possibly because I was not beautiful or accomplished like Miss Day was. The same traits found in Miss Day could also be seen in Georgiana, whom I did not doubt would marry quite well.

'_Oh, very well, I admit that I'm envious of them_,' I thought as we stood from the table. '_However, I cannot hate Georgiana for her gifts, nor Miss Day, for I do not know her, and it wouldn't be right to despise someone I do not know_.'

So why was this bothering me now? I had known for the past several years that I might never marry for reasons beyond my control, so why was this so heart-wrenching now?

The image of Erik Laurent's handsome face flashed in my head as I followed Elizabeth out to the waiting carriage, and I immediately knew the answer to my questions, though I couldn't bear to really think about it. I was determined to not let my emotions show, and instead vowed to remain a good friend to the Frenchman who had lost his true love to that of another man.

* * *

Clutching his cup, Erik took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. He had overheard the conversation between Elizabeth, Miss Darcy, and Belle, and it angered him to know that the story of his failed romance with Christine had reached England so quickly. Granted, not many knew of it, but the last thing he had wanted was for the Darcys and Belle to find out about it. Fitzwilliam, of course, knew all the details, but not his wife nor his sister, and Erik had meant to keep it that way. And now here it was, out in the open for them to know!

Sipping the last of his strong coffee, he stood up from his chair, tossed a small coin to the servant coming to tidy up after him, and left the café. He saw the Darcy carriage vanish around a corner and turned the opposite way, desperately in need of a walk to clear his head.

Within the hour, Erik was lost within the lush greenery of a park as well as within his own mind. From his position in the café, he had been able to hear every word being said by the young Miss Darcy as she revealed the gossip she'd heard about his past, but could not see the women themselves until they were ready to leave. His back had been towards them, and as they spoke, he did his best to keep the masked side of his face hidden to avoid too much attention.

As she talked, Erik had wanted to stop Georgiana from spreading the story to her sister and friend, but didn't want to make himself known, lest they think him rude for listening in, and so Erik had been forced to relive those painful memories until the women left the coffee house entirely.

However, despite the hurtful feelings shooting through him, Erik had learned one thing that was very important. As Annabelle Woodworth left through the door, he had turned around just in time to see her expression. She had seemed sad, almost defeated as she climbed into the Darcy carriage, and seeing such a look on her lovely face nearly broke Erik's heart. Why would the cheerful, clever Annabelle look as though she were ready to weep after hearing the story of his life?

'_Does she feel pity for me_?' He couldn't abide pity from anyone, but for some reason, he didn't feel so much against it if it came from Belle.

The walk was getting him nowhere, merely causing Erik to feel more and more frustrated with his thoughts and emotions. Perhaps if he got his own house in town and was away from the intoxicating presence of Miss Woodworth, things would become much clearer.

Nodding to himself, Erik headed back towards the Darcy house, intent on having a word with Nadir on getting a house within the week.

* * *

AN: Feelings are starting to be revealed, aren't they? More fun will happen soon, I promise. Please review!


	13. Explanations and Emotions

Disclaimer: I wish that I owned dear Erik and all things _**Pride and Prejudice**_, but those characters already belong to someone else, and so are not mine. Only original people/places/things are mine.

AN: A tiny bit of drama in this chapter, but I think people will be pleased with it. Please don't forget to review. Thanks!

**Chapter 13: Explanations and Emotions**:

The days flew by quickly, for I spent much of my time escorting Georgiana around London on many different outings. It was a relief to have another unmarried young lady to walk with, talk to, and have a pleasant quiet afternoon tea with, and Georgiana and I were constant companions whenever Jane, Elizabeth, Bingley and Fitzwilliam were unavailable for amusements.

Although she was very young, Georgiana had a sort of maturity to her that most girls did not have, and was not flighty or silly. Fitzwilliam had done an admirable job of raising his sister correctly, and it showed quite clearly in her fine education and gentle temperament. I knew that when she came out into society, Georgiana Darcy would have no trouble finding a good man to be her husband.

However, I could not spend all of my days with Miss Darcy, and after a week or two of being her constant companion, I was forced to send a message to the Darcy home to say that I would be unavailable to them for several days. The reason for this was because my Aunt Josephine was in a better state of health, and desired to go out into town for some amusement before some other sort of ailment overcame her. She could have easily asked Aunt Sophia to go with her, but I suspected that she missed seeing me, and so I was asked instead.

Although I did not mind spending time with Aunt Josephine, being with her could be rather tedious, as she required constant attention. I would have to be sure that her smelling salts, handkerchiefs, and a small bottle of tonic were always close at hand, and that she did not overtax herself while walking. It was more like being a nursemaid than anything else, but since my aunt was sweet-tempered, it was not much of a chore.

My time spent with my aunt was longer than I expected. Usually Aunt Josephine was able to spend perhaps two days out of the house before she became tired and decided to confine herself to her room once more. To my surprise, she was able to spend nearly four days out of her bed, and we spent that time shopping, riding through parks in the carriage, and attending a tea party or two before it all became too much and she needed to return to her normal way of life.

With the end of my presence requirement by my aunt, I was able to reply to one of Elizabeth's long-standing invitations and say that I would be happy to join them for tea or any other outing they wished. I sent a footman off with the sealed envelope at once, then settled down to wait and see if my friend would reply with a date and time for a meeting.

To my surprise, the return message from the Darcys came from Georgiana. She was apparently practicing her hand at accepting invitations from friends, and was now replying in the place of Elizabeth, with her permission, of course. This note requested my presence for tea that afternoon, and since it was just after luncheon, I had little time to ready myself.

Ellis was frustrated at getting so little time to help me dress, but she managed to find a peach walking gown and a matching pelisse that I had not yet worn. A hat trimmed with white ribbons completed the outfit, and once Ellis had done my hair up into a fashionable knot tied with peach ribbons, I was rushed downstairs to the carriage.

Arriving at the Darcy house in good time, I stepped through the door to see the most astonishing sight. Erik Laurent was holding the hand of Georgiana Darcy with a kind smile on his face.

A wave of jealousy fluttered through me, but I put it aside for a later time. A lady of society never showed her emotions in public, for society disliked emotional women. Out in the world, we were to put on smiling faces, laugh at everything, and pretend everything was alright until we arrived home, where behind closed doors we could weep until our bodies and hearts were exhausted.

Smiling, I went forward to meet Elizabeth, who came to greet me with praise about my outfit, and if I would tell her who had designed my hat.

* * *

After that day in the eatery and hearing Georgiana Darcy call him a cold man who behaved so abominably to women, Erik had done much thinking that very night. He had requested supper in his room, claiming to have some business regarding his estate to finish, and sent Nadir to try and complete his task of finding a house for them in London. Alone in his room, Erik began to think.

It was not his intention to be distant and almost rude to women, but given his past, it really was no wonder that the opposite sex received no warmth from him. The saying '_once bitten, twice shy_' could easily apply to him, for the incident with Christine made him wary of any and all females.

"Well, except for Elizabeth and Jane," he muttered to himself while pouring a glass of strong sherry.

Elizabeth was a good, clever woman, with a lively sense of humor and the ability to make him feel at ease in her presence. She was also very observant of everything around her, which made it easy for her to find people's emotions and faults, and that, in turn, made him like her even more, for she did not try and exploit those faults, but merely tried to help a person overcome them. She had done so for Darcy's pride and arrogance, and Fitzwilliam was all the better for it.

Jane was the opposite of Elizabeth. Quiet, sweet, good-tempered, and with a soft voice that made her almost the embodiment of motherhood, she was the perfect match for Charles Bingley, who could be rather foolish and a good deal too open with others. Of course, Charles's openness helped Jane emerge a bit from her own shell, and her restraint on her emotions helped rein in her husband's forwardness. It was a wonderful match for both.

Of course, Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Bingley were not the only decent women Erik had met. Annabelle Woodworth was also a fine woman in possession of a good deal of cleverness and humor, and she made him feel as though he were an ordinary man, even in spite of his mask. She made him smile and laugh, something he had not done in quite some time, and Erik found that he rather liked spending time with her.

The other women in society, however, were not for him. They were silly, flighty, and dull, their conversation making him wish that he were anywhere but there. That was the reason he disliked most women, with very few exceptions, such as Mrs. Darcy, Mrs. Bingley, and Miss Woodworth.

However, Erik knew that there had to be one other exception he would have to make for the sake of a friend, and that was Georgiana Darcy. Before her recent arrival in London, he had never set eyes on the girl, for he had been too busy at Cambridge and traveling the countryside with her brother, Fitzwilliam. Also, Georgiana had been away at school or in the hands of a watchful widowed caregiver, so their paths had never crossed, despite Erik's friendship with Fitzwilliam.

Taking a sip of his sherry, Erik had decided that, for the sake of his friendship with Mr. Darcy, he would have to get along with his host's younger sister. It should not be a difficult or displeasing thing, for Georgiana was a sweet girl with a good heart, and she was not in possession of the foolishness that other women had.

'_Of course, there had been that incident with Mr. Wickham, but she could not be blamed for that_,' Erik reasoned. '_After all, she'd only been fifteen years old, and all any young girl of that age wants is to fall in love_.'

No, Georgiana could not be blamed for George Wickham's shameful behavior and greed for money. She deserved better than that, and that was what Erik was determined to give her.

* * *

The morning after his resolution to behave more decently towards Georgiana, Erik had come downstairs and given everyone a polite 'good morning.' He even managed a polite nod towards his hostess and her young sister-in-law, which was greeted with surprise by not only Elizabeth and Georgiana, but Fitzwilliam as well. The ladies returned his nods with one of their own, and they all settled down for breakfast.

The next few days passed the same way, with Erik being relatively polite to Georgiana at meals until she went out with Elizabeth and Belle to all sorts of tea parties, walks, and shopping excursions. Try as he did to be polite, Erik never spent more than a moment or a silent meal in the presence of Miss Darcy. He had always went to his room or on a made up errand in order to escape the house. In fact, the only times he walked openly around the Darcys' house was when the ladies had gone out with Belle.

Then, one day during breakfast, a message arrived at the Darcy house that made Erik's spirit wilt. Apparently Miss Woodworth's presence was required by her aunt, Mrs. Cartwright, for the next several days, and so she would not be able to accompany Miss Darcy on any outings until she was released from her aunt's side.

In spite of the sad news and the loss of her companion, Georgiana's spirits rallied to remain high, and she offered to play something on the pianoforte to cheer them all up. Elizabeth suggested a duet they had been practicing, and when Fitzwilliam invited him to play chess in the music room while the ladies played and sang, Erik accepted without hesitation, much to everyone's surprise, including Erik's. He had spent the day in good humor, however, for the music played by the ladies was cheerful and lifting to the spirits, and Darcy was a worthy chess opponent.

In the days following Belle's note, Erik spent his time being attempting to be civil and good-mannered to Miss Darcy, and was thankful that Elizabeth and Georgiana had other things to do than remain at home. Thus, he was saved from having to be overly polite at all hours, and could be at ease for much of the day.

However, Erik found that being polite was slowly becoming easier. After all, he had been taught to be social and decent to those around him, and the etiquette teachings of Madame Giry and the Cambridge masters had been almost beaten into him by his very vigorous instructors –he very much doubted that they would forgive him if they saw how badly he was ignoring their lessons now.

But then, Erik was not a cruel, vicious person, and was capable of great kindness, though that particular side of him had not emerged since his hunting accident. Now, with his shell opening just a little bit at a time, Erik Laurent was able to let his true self show, and it probably surprised everyone who knew him, except for Fitzwilliam Darcy and Charles Bingley.

But the person he mostly wanted to display his true mannerisms to was – though he was loath to admit it – Miss Annabelle Woodworth. She already knew that he was a good sort, but it was clear that she thought he could do better, and so Erik set out to be the man that Belle believed he could be.

That was why, as she stepped through the Darcys' front door for the first time in days, he put on his best manners, bowed over Georgiana's hand, and smiled.

* * *

To me, tea that afternoon was awkward, though it seemed well enough for everyone else. Erik seemed particularly kind towards Georgiana, and it made me feel ill watching it. I could not help but be envious of my young friend, but knew it would do me no good to feel this way. Instead, I simply tried to feel happy that he was paying such attention to her.

Glancing over the edge of my tea cup, I could see why Mr. Laurent would be so interested in Miss Georgiana Darcy. She was quite pretty, with golden hair, large brown eyes and a sweet smile. Her manners were impeccable, as they should be, and she was as good and as even-tempered as Jane Bingley. Georgiana was also very accomplished in music, and she had a handsome fortune.

'_She will make him a good wife_,' I thought while setting the cup down in its saucer and reaching for a little cucumber sandwich. '_In a way, she was much like Christine Day, the young woman who had broken Erik's heart not so long ago. Why should he not attempt to find a bride that is so very much like his first love_?'

Elizabeth asked what sort of seafood was acceptable to serve at a dinner for close friends and family, and I answered her without much difficulty. "One of the seasonal fishes would be best served as a soup early in the meal, and another kind during a different course," I replied while trying not to choke on my words.

She thanked me and began talking to Fitzwilliam about who to invite to supper in a few days, leaving me alone with my thoughts and my tea. Erik was listening intently to Georgiana talk about her favorite composers and sheets of music, so I was quite alone in my thoughts. I immediately felt lonely, and could not wait until enough time passed so that I would be able to call my carriage and leave without seeming rude.

"Oh, I have a wonderful idea," exclaimed Elizabeth. "I would love to take a walk in the public rose gardens, and the weather seems ideal for it. Would anyone else care to join me?"

Fitzwilliam agreed, of course, as did Erik, but Georgiana declared that she had letters to write to friends and family, and could not go. Elizabeth tried to persuade her, but her sister-in-law was adamant, and so I was pressured to go with them, if only to balance the party. Not wanting to be rude, I agreed, and once the dishes and trays were cleared away, I was assisted into my pelisse and followed my host and hostess out the door, with Mr. Laurent close behind.

* * *

The weather truly was fine for walking, and the opportunity to stretch my legs was a welcome one. I loved long walks, and since I had not been to the rose gardens for several years, my anxiety at being in Mr. Laurent's company quickly vanished under my excitement and happiness at visiting the gardens. For some reason, being surrounded by flowers and trees always soothed me.

The beginning of the walk was quiet, as Mr. and Mrs. Darcy went arm-in-arm ahead of us, Elizabeth's hand resting on top of her husband's forearm in a sweet, intimate gesture. I myself kept pace beside Erik, who walked as though he had a cane for a spine and had an air of stiff politeness, his manners very different from earlier.

As we entered the rose gardens, Elizabeth exclaimed over their beauty and rushed forward for a closer look. Fitzwilliam followed close behind, leaving me in the presence of Mr. Laurent. The silence that followed was awkward, and I was about to suggest my returning back for my carriage when Erik abruptly turned to me and asked if I would walk with him a little. I reluctantly agreed, and we both began a slow trek along the pathway.

Suddenly, Erik gently cleared his throat. "I believe you have heard something of my past which is not yet known in London," he softly said to me. "Your dressmaker is from France, from what I have heard from Fitzwilliam, and no doubt she has told you what occurred in Paris only a few months ago."

I blushed and confessed it was so. "But I make no judgments on others based on idle gossip," I hastily assured him. "And I will tell no one of this matter if you do not wish it to be spread."

He gave me a kind and rather amused look as he teasingly said, "Had I not known you so well, I would think it impossible for you to keep such news to yourself, being the gossip that you are."

Blushing even harder, I looked down. "Oh, you are cruel to tease me so!"

From my right, he burst into chuckles. "Then I apologize." The air sobered quickly as he said, "And I wish to offer you the entire story from my own lips, rather than allow you to hear it from others."

Surprised, I remained quiet as Erik told me the whole thing; from his accident and the emotional and physical scars it left him, to the breaking of his heart by the actions of Raoul de Chagny and Christine Day. I felt pity for the man who had been born with a handsome face and now had to be starred at as a social outcast rather than admired for his perfect features. My own heart nearly broke upon hearing how the woman he thought could eventually love him actually left him for a perfectly featured man, one with golden blonde hair, blue eyes, and a charming face.

The story finished with him fleeing to England, to the house of his great friend who was also a close connection of mine, Fitzwilliam Darcy. The two men had traits that were so similar, such as pride and arrogance, but both of them had changed: Darcy for the better, and Erik for the worst. Fitzwilliam had grown kinder and more humorous, while Erik grew more distant from the world he had once had such high hopes in.

Fitzwilliam was also married to a woman he loved…

"And I am not," Erik finished softly as we began to walk another pathway through the rosebushes. "Thanks to that horrid accident, I believe I have lost my chance at love, for who would want to marry a man with a face like mine?"

Indeed, there were people staring at us, or rather, staring at him and his masked face. What was going on inside their heads? Did they think him a monster, a freak of nature, or did some have their fear turn into pity and understanding? I knew some of Erik's heart, of the man behind the mask, so I did not care that his face was burned, nor that it was scarred forever, but others did not know him and probably never would. The world was a big place, after all.

"Thank you for listening to my tale," he whispered just as the Darcys caught up to us. "You are far more open-minded than any woman I have ever met, and have a very kind, understanding heart."

Looking up into his eyes, I thought it was odd that Erik's praise made my heart skip. Of course, I felt honored at the degree of trust he had in my keeping his story to myself –it was so unexpected. But then, I could not help but feel as though there were something else behind the intensity of his green eyes as they bore into mine.

The heat rising into my cheeks, I quickly looked away towards Elizabeth as she and Fitzwilliam came towards us. "Oh, it is so warm that my face is flushed from the sun!" I exclaimed with a laugh. "Shall we stop for something cold to drink? I am all done out!"

* * *

For some reason, it had pleased Erik a great deal to see Annabelle blush at his words and try to laugh off the redness in her cheeks. He knew that Elizabeth didn't believe her friend's words at it being too warm out, and no doubt Fitzwilliam could see though that, too.

The four of them stopped for lemon ices at a small refreshment stand under a shady tree, and Erik could not help but look at Belle's face as she consumed the cool, tartly-sweet concoction. The redness in her face was diminishing, and her eyes would not meet his, instead focusing on Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam as they asked about her health and if she would be alright walking back towards their house.

"Oh, I shall be fine," Belle assured them. "It's just a bit more sun than I am used to. If I were back home, I would be spending far more time outdoors, but in London, I am always inside attending parties, balls, and assemblies. I simply need more time walking and taking in nature."

Elizabeth agreed, and offered to walk with her whenever she wished. "For I am a country woman as well, and we must stick together," she teased.

Their walk back was full of the ladies exchanging comparisons of their homes, Elizabeth about her father's house at Longbourn and Belle about her family's home, Huntington Hall. Erik kept pace behind them with Fitzwilliam, who seemed amused and delighted at the ladies keeping such good company.

"I believe you will miss seeing them together like this once you have found a house of your own in town," Darcy remarked softly to his friend so that the ladies did not hear.

The idea of not seeing Belle nearly every day made Erik's heart leap into his throat. How could he stand living in a place that was not filled with laughter, music, and friends? It was not to be thought of.

In the back of his mind, Erik devised a plan. Nadir would continue his search for a house for his master, but Erik was determined to refuse them all. It would be not be difficult, since all of the best and most decent houses were already taken, and anything left was likely in sore need of repair. Besides, the Darcys liked having him as their guest, and leaving Fitzwilliam alone in a house with two women seemed terribly unfair.

It was definitely best if Erik merely stayed right where he was. He smiled and walked on with a far more relaxed gait in his step.

* * *

AN: Please review!


	14. L'amour

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything from _**Pride and Prejudice**_ or _**Phantom**_, even though I wish I did.

AN: A bit more pushing in this chapter, as well as a few nice surprises that I hope people will like. However, I can promise that there is much more to this story, so no fear about this ending too soon!

**Chapter 14: L'amour:**

My constant visits and outings with Georgiana brought me into the Darcy home quite frequently, which often put me into the path of Erik Laurent. I had been told by my friends that Mr. Laurent was looking for a house to take in town, but as of now, had failed to find one that met his specifications. Thus, he still stayed at the Darcy manor.

Despite his insistence upon leaving the home of his friends', however, I noticed that Erik did not seem to mind staying there. After all, he had the company of good friends to talk to and dine with, and there were so many rooms in the Darcys' house that I'm sure they were glad for Erik's company. Besides, with Elizabeth busy playing chaperone to Georgiana, Fitzwilliam was often alone in the house, so Erik provided a constant companion to his friend while Georgiana was a companion both to Elizabeth and to me.

One other thing I was able to discern during my frequent visitations to my friends' home was that Erik's newfound civility towards Georgiana was that of a man to a sister, or that of a gentleman to his friend's family. In fact, when comparing Mr. Laurent's behavior towards Miss Darcy to that of Charles Bingley's towards her, Erik mannerisms were almost identical in politeness, and there was nothing of the air of courtship around him whenever he was near Georgiana, which, for some reason, relieved me greatly.

Today was yet another day out in town for me, but instead I was only with Elizabeth. I had sent a note to the Darcy home, and Elizabeth replied that Georgiana had been up late at a card party, and decided it would be best for her to remain at home. Besides, Georgiana had a book that she was only halfway through and she desperately wanted to finish it.

"I, however," Elizabeth wrote, "thought you might like a ride and a picnic in one of the greater parks outside of town. I feel as though I have been in the confines of London for too long and need a bit of sunshine and air."

In full agreement with my friend, I put on a light walking gown of white muslin with a blue jacket, and a bonnet with blue ribbons to ward off the sun. Elizabeth came for me in her carriage, and we both rode off into the outskirts of town.

While city parks had their charms, Elizabeth and I agreed that the Great Parks were much preferred by both of us, as we were both country ladies and had a fondness for vast green spaces, trees, flowers, and animals. Occasionally, we would drive past herds of deer as they stood grazing peacefully, and would giggle as flocks of sheep stood staring at us with their silly faces.

After a while, we stopped for our picnic under a large, shady tree. One of the Darcy manservants spread a large blanket on the lush emerald grass, and once we were seated, Elizabeth quickly began removing the food from the sizeable basket she had brought. Bread, cheeses, cold meat, pastries, and bottles of water and cold tea were soon cast about the blanket, and we made excellent work on them all, with a great deal leftover. I told Elizabeth she should raise the pay of her cook, and she heartily agreed with me.

Nibbling our way through the meal, Elizabeth and I talked about various things, from clothes to books, and enjoyed having time together as friends. She asked what color of dress she should wear to the next ball, and if I would accompany her and Fitzwilliam to the next event they attended.

"For you know that whenever Mr. Darcy is around people he does not know or like, he tends to be quite intimidating, which only makes things awkward between us and our hosts, as well as with other guests," she said with a sigh. "I know that he is a wonderful man, but it can be very difficult to make new acquaintances when one's husband is not as social as others."

I replied that I knew this all too well, and would happily accompany both her and Fitzwilliam to whatever event permitted guests to bring others along with them. "For I would hate to arrive at a party and discover that my presence only makes it more difficult to seat me at the dinner table. The hostess would never forgive me!"

Our meal concluded in the early afternoon, and once our stomachs were settled, Elizabeth ordered the carriage to remain there while we ladies went for a walk. The sun was pleasantly warm, and there was a cool breeze, which made it even better to be enjoying the day.

We spent a good while following pathways winding over hills and through trees, occasionally passing rushing streams and herds of all sorts of animals, both wild and domestic. A few sheep came up to us to be petted before they went on their way, and we were very fortunate to see numerous baby fawns following their mothers. Elizabeth quietly exclaimed over how sweet the little ones were, and thought them the most adorable things.

The walk back was considerably longer, as we both rested frequently whenever there was a spot for it. On one particular rest, I found a pebble along a stream that was just the color of Erik Laurent's eyes: a smoky green with a touch of grey. Unbidden, the image of Erik's face flashed in my mind, and I blushed while tucking the pebble into a pocket of my dress.

"Belle, your cheeks are flushed," Elizabeth exclaimed. She gave me a closer look. "Ah, I see you are thinking about something you shouldn't." She laughed as I blushed again.

I pulled out the pebble and held it out to her. Carefully taking it into her gloved hand, Elizabeth looked it over. "This color reminds me of the eyes of one of our acquaintances, namely Erik Laurent," she slowly said as she gave it back. "Belle, is there a reason you are keeping this particular stone when there are so many others here?"

Elizabeth was looking at me with a kind and sisterly smile. "I know what it is. You are in love with Erik Laurent!"

A strange feeling went through me, a sort of heat-but-still-cold sensation that had me short of breath. I had never felt this way before, and it was both wonderful and terrifying knowing that it was all because of the mere mention of a man that I felt this way.

I went pale. No, it couldn't be love. How could I fall in love with a man who could never love me in return? Christine Day was the woman of his dreams, and now that she was to marry another, I had no doubt that he would never desire any other woman but her. Who could possibly want someone who wasn't in possession of the legendary beauty, grace, and talents of Miss Day?

I thought about my own looks. I was pretty enough, I suppose, but Mama always thought my fortune would bring me suitors and, eventually, a husband. However, it soon became clear to me that men desired wives who were beautiful, rich, or if the opportunity arose, a woman who was of wealth, family, _and_ beauty.

For most men, a wife with a large dowry was enough to satisfy them. No matter how homely she was, a man would be able to put up with a great deal so as long as there was money in his coffers, and as long as the lady provided him with heirs to the estate, that was enough. If a woman married such a man, the most she could hope for was a barely existing fondness or affection, and in most cases, the gentleman went off and procured a mistress in town while his wife stayed on the country estate and raised the children.

As for ladies with more beauty than money, they could be counted on to bring fine-looking children, and to be a dazzling display on the arm of her husband at parties. With a beauty on his arm, a gentleman could attract envy from his friends and attention from those he desired to form acquaintances with in Parliament.

I, however, was part of the group of ladies that did not have great beauty, but had a very tidy dowry. Men might look at me and consider me pretty, but not enough to make me the center of attention at a ball or assembly. While my fortune was significant, there were many women both older and younger than I who had larger fortunes, and they had been snatched up as quickly as the dazzling beauties.

Nor was I very young, which seemed to harm my chances even more. Young women were thought to provide more children, hopefully heirs for their husbands, which was why so many men of all ages desired a wife of sixteen, or at the oldest, twenty-three years old. At twenty-five, I was likely considered past my prime age for breeding.

To me, my fate seemed perfectly clear: to end an old maid aunt who doted on her brother's children and taught them their lessons. My dowry appeared to be not enough to carry me to the altar, and neither were my looks. If I did not marry soon, I was fully prepared to return home and inform my parents of my failure in town. Mama would not be pleased, but Papa would accept my decision.

"Oh, honestly, Belle, don't look so distraught!" Elizabeth said, breaking into my thoughts. "You are a lovely young woman, and with your cleverness and humor, any man would be mad not to fall in love with you and make you his wife!"

I seriously doubted that. If I were so marriageable, then why was I not a wife by now?

* * *

"Sometimes I wonder at the stupidity of men," Darcy said while pouring Erik a glass of brandy.

His French comrade looked at him with amusement as he accepted the glass. "And may I ask why?"

The two men sat in Fitzwilliam's study, the one place in the house where no female, other than the cleaning maids, entered. Even Elizabeth did not venture here, claiming that her husband needed one room in the immense manor to call his own and to be his refuge whenever he felt there were too many ladies visiting.

Darcy shook his head. "I am merely disappointed that no one has ever asked for Annabelle's hand in marriage," he explained. "How is it that a young woman with such a kind manner, a good sense of humor, and a good mind not find a husband? It is not to be thought of."

Erik looked into his glass and gently swirled the liquid around. Yes, it was very sad that Miss Woodworth had not found someone to love and cherish her as all women deserved. Were the English blind or stupid to women such as Belle? If she were in France, he had no doubt that there would be dozens of men swarming over her as bees to a flower.

The idea of other men pressing their attentions on Belle made Erik clench his fists, one of them almost hard enough to shatter the delicate glass in his hand. He could almost see the handsome men fawning over her gloved hands at a ball, bringing her delicacies, ices and drinks, all of them at her beck-and-call.

'_And for each dance, she would be in the arms of another dashing fellow who would happily sweep her off her feet and into matrimony_,' Erik thought, grinding his teeth.

"Good God, Erik, you look ready to kill someone!" Darcy exclaimed. "Are you alright? What are you thinking about that makes you so infuriated?"

Taking a deep breath, Erik slowly relaxed his hands, the one clutching the glass now doing so in a more gentle manner. "It is nothing," he muttered while bringing the cup to his lips. The alcohol in the brandy burned a pathway down his throat and heated up his belly, a fine diversion from his thoughts.

Fitzwilliam, however, knew his friend too well. "Come, come, you must have been thinking about something." He looked pointedly at Erik. "It's about Annabelle, isn't it?"

Erik jerked in his seat, clearly revealing his secret thoughts and causing Darcy to grin knowingly. "Ah, I thought so," the Englishman said with a nod. "I was wondering when you would realize your feelings towards her."

Feeling slightly panicked, Erik shook his head. "No, you are mistaken," he rushed to say, "I have no feelings towards Miss Woodworth-"

His friend silenced him with a cool, level glare. "You are quite foolish indeed if you think I cannot read you like an open book, Erik," Darcy firmly stated. "It is clear to me that you are in love with Annabelle Woodworth."

Again, panic surged inside of Erik's mind. No, it could not be love. He had given up on love the day Christine had left him for Bath and that intolerable young fop, Raoul, had followed close on her heels. The announcement in the French papers of their engagement had destroyed all of his hopes of finding matrimony with a young woman he could even remotely care for.

Darcy was talking. "I highly doubt that what you felt for Miss Day was love," he was saying as he poured more brandy into his glass. "An artist friend of mine in Paris sent me a drawing of her, and I believe what you felt was a boyish awe and desire for a young woman in possession of great beauty. It is much the same thing when an art connoisseur obsesses of a painting he or she has seen and must have."

His brown eyes focused on Erik's face. "You thought that Miss Day was everything a wife should be, and so you sought to have her as your bride and mistress of the Laurent estate merely because you knew she had the education and practice of running a large household. You wanted a creature who could act as a hostess and be a pretty decoration to your home, even if she could not love you."

There was a pause as Darcy took a drink from his glass. "Your loss of faith in love is due, I believe, to the condition of your face after the accident."

Erik breathed in sharply. It was true that he had lost all hope in ever finding love after the accident that left him scared forever. What woman would marry a man with half a face? If he were completely burned and deformed, the women might have pity on him, and occasionally, pity could turn to love, for the fairer sex had gentle hearts and could be quite forgiving.

But his face was not fully mangled, and Erik knew that no woman would marry a man such as him. Who would want to, when she saw that half of him looked like a dashing, handsome man while the other half looked like a demon's? How could she bear knowing what he had looked like before his accident and would never look like that again? After spending each and every morning waking up and wondering if she was going to see twisted, red skin, or smooth, tanned, unmarked flesh, she would despise the marked side of his face, and eventually regret ever marrying him.

No, love was not something Erik Laurent could ever hope of encountering in his life. A woman who would marry him for money, and who would be a good hostess to his friends and acquaintances was all he could hope for. If he were fortunate beyond words, he would find a wife willing to bed him long enough to beget children and possibly heirs to his ancestral home. It was too much to hope for in finding a woman to marry him for love.

A booted foot kicked him gently in the leg. "Don't be foolish," Darcy said with a glare. "You love her, and as a close friend to both you and Annabelle, it is quite clear that you both feel something towards one another, but are too frightened or timid to admit it to yourselves, much less to one another." He gave an irritated sigh. "Though I suppose, with your pasts, it is no wonder."

Erik sat up in his chair. "What do you mean her past? What happened?"

Fitzwilliam merely shrugged. "Annabelle has always been harsh with herself, which I guess is mostly due to her mother, Lady Woodworth, and the matriarchal side of Belle's family. You see, despite being kind, amusing, and a joy to be with, Belle is considered a great disappointment to her family because of her inability to find a husband.

"After several seasons in London and at Huntington Hall, and since Belle's twentieth birthday, both Lady Woodworth and her siblings have thought that perhaps something had gone wrong in Annabelle's upbringing, which is why, I suppose, Belle feels inferior to other girls. Her fortune, though large, is not as grand as some, and she does not feel as though she is pretty or attractive enough to catch a husband. This is why she believes a man will never want her for a wife, much less fall in love with her."

Darcy looked at his friend. "If you have feelings for her and she for you, then one of you must speak. Belle never will, for it is against social protocol for a woman to give in to her emotions. Thus, the task falls to you, Erik Laurent, to tell your fair lady of your feelings towards her."

Erik swallowed hard and downed the entire glass of brandy, hoping to steady his nerves.

* * *

I sat quietly as Ellis put my hair up at the top of my head and began threading gold ribbons and white cloth flowers into it; both the flowers and ribbons went well with my white evening gown with gold embroidery along the neckline, sleeves and hem. I sighed and tugged at the gold sash around my waist.

After my outing in the park with Elizabeth, we had arrived at my uncle's house just after tea. I had invited Elizabeth inside, but she had refused, saying that she must return home to prepare for her night out at the London Opera. Before she left, however, she invited to join her and Fitzwilliam in their opera box, which I happily accepted.

"There you are, Miss," Ellis said as finished. "Here's your cloak, and don't forget your gloves and reticule."

Fully dressed, I was downstairs just as the Darcy carriage arrived. When the door to the carriage opened, I nearly swallowed my tongue after seeing who sat there alone. It was Erik Laurent.

* * *

The ride to the London Opera House was very awkward for both Erik and the woman he was escorting there. The Darcys were running late due to Georgiana ripping a hem of the gown she had chosen to wear tonight, and were forced to wait until she had changed into a different dress or mended the one she had on. Either choice proved to be time-consuming, so Elizabeth had asked Erik if he would take the carriage and fetch Annabelle to the Opera House and await their arrival there.

Not wanting to be a rude houseguest, Erik had agreed and was now regretting doing this favor. Belle was proving to be unusually silent, and Erik was hesitant in saying anything lest he upset her or make things even worse between them. Thus the two rode on in silence, their ears filled with only the sound of horseshoes and the coach's wheels on the uneven cobblestones of the street.

Their arrival at their destination was a relief, and Erik quickly exited the carriage in order to help Annabelle out onto the front steps. Her gloved hand rested in his palm like a soft little bird, and he gently closed his fingers over hers as he led her into the bustling palace of music, art and dance.

After a quick inquiry, a young lad in an usher's uniform escorted the pair to the box reserved for the Darcy family, who were long-time patrons of the Opera House and the theater. Erik tipped the boy a coin and informed him that Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were to be arriving soon with another member of their party. The usher bowed and promised to deliver the three as soon as they came.

Alone with Belle in the elegant box, Erik studied the expression on the lady's face. She seemed so excited and happy to be here, her head tilting slightly at the sound of the orchestra warming up in their pit and her eyes dancing everywhere in order to absorb every detail. He knew she had been to the theater and the opera before, and yet she seemed as though to be experiencing it for the first time. It was so fascinating to watch.

Just then, the orchestra began playing a glorious song to please the ears of its patrons, and Erik inhaled sharply at the look of intense euphoria that swept across Belle's lovely features. Something inside his mind imagined seeing that look on her face in many other situations, and he suddenly blurted out the only thing that came to his mind.

"Tell me you will marry me."

* * *

Staring straight ahead over the edge of the box, I could not be certain I had heard him correctly. Had Erik Laurent asked me to marry him? No, that was ridiculous, why would he propose to me, a girl with little beauty, though a good enough fortune?

"Please, Annabelle," Erik whispered, his voice just barely carrying over the sound of the orchestra.

Swallowing hard, I turned my head to look at him. The white of his mask was startling in the lamplight –how odd, I'd always forgotten about it being there. The green of his eyes were a deep emerald, and incredibly intense as they stared at me. Eyes were supposed to be the windows to the soul, and at this moment, I saw the emotions that lay within them. Erik was in love with me, and the idea made my heart soar. Thus, I said the only word that came to mind at a moment like this.

"Yes," I whispered just as the curtains went up and music exploded all around us.

And then he smiled at me.

* * *

AN: How was that, was the proposal too soon? Don't worry, there's plenty more to this story. It won't be an easy ride for Erik and Belle after this, I promise! Please review. Thanks!


	15. Family Approval

Disclaimer: I wish that I owned dear Erik and all things _**Pride and Prejudice**_, but those characters already belong to someone else, and so are not mine. Only original people/places/things are mine.

AN: More drama to come in this chapter. I hope that everyone enjoys and will leave a review. Thanks!

**Chapter 15: Family Approval:**

I floated in a daze as I rode back home with the Darcys. Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth, and Georgiana arrived just moments after the curtain had risen, causing them to take their seats quickly. Erik was forced to sit further back in the box, as Fitzwilliam wished for his wife and sister to have a better view of the stage, so we ladies sat in front while the men sat behind us. Fitzwilliam sat behind his family while Erik took a chair directly behind me.

Needless to say, this new sitting arrangement made things rather awkward for me. All throughout the performance, I could feel the warmth of Erik's breath on my neck as he leaned forward to get a better view of the stage, and with my head still spinning from his sudden marriage proposal, I could not be bothered to pay attention to the opera being acted.

During the intermission, when refreshments were delivered to our box, I was able to clear my head with a bit of wine and food, which helped relax me greatly. As I nibbled and sipped my way through the period between acts, I could feel Erik's eyes on me, and occasionally dared to meet them. The intensity of those green orbs never faded, and seem to actually increase as the night wore on. I blushed and looked away whenever I met those eyes of his, knowing that I could easily get lost in the love and affection that glowed from within his very soul.

The rest of the opera came and went, but I saw and heard none of it. All I could think about was the fact that a very handsome French nobleman had asked me to be his wife, and I had accepted. It should have been one of the happiest nights of my life, but I knew it was not the end of such matters.

As was customary, Papa and Mama would have to be informed, and if he wanted to perform things correctly in the English fashion, Erik would have to travel all the way to Huntington Hall to ask for my father's permission to wed me. Of course, Erik could merely write to Papa and ask for permission to marry me, but that seemed to be rather impersonal and rude.

Of course, another way would be for Erik to ask permission from my uncle, Sir James Cartwright. As my guardian and caregiver while I was in town, Sir James had been granted the ability to speak with authority when it came to my marriage. If Sir James said I might marry Erik, then it would all be arranged from my uncle's house, after Papa was told of the matter.

I thought of all this while we left the Opera House, and as I went upstairs to my room. Once I was undressed and lying in bed, my head was flooded full of images of my future wedding and my heart filled with nervousness and unbelievable joy. I was unable to sleep for quite sometime, my eyes finally drifting shut just as the clock struck three o'clock in the morning.

* * *

I woke late the next day, which was no great surprise considering how late I had finally gone to sleep. Ellis brought me breakfast in bed, then helped me into a morning dress of white muslin trimmed with pale yellow ribbons. My hair was put up in a knot with ribbons to match my dress, and I hurried downstairs to see if I had any letters waiting for me.

To my surprise, the footman was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, holding his silver letter tray with several crème-colored envelopes stacked neatly upon it. He bowed and held the tray out towards me.

"A messenger arrived from the Darcy residence an hour or so ago, Miss Woodworth," he said. "And earlier today, a letter arrived from your father."

I nodded and looked towards the envelopes. "Are these all for me?" I asked, amazed.

"Yes, Miss. One from Mrs. Darcy, one from Miss Georgiana Darcy, and the note from your father, Lord Woodworth," the footman replied.

Reaching out, I took the messages and began looking through them. "What of my aunts and uncle?"

"Sir James went out to his club early this morning, and will return before luncheon. Lady Josephine is keeping to her room, and Miss Cartwright has gone to visit friends in town until dinner. The children are out today with their nurse and governess."

Well, thank goodness for that. I certainly did not want to speak to Aunt Sophia and face her lectures about going out with the Darcys, and considering what had occurred during the opera last night, there was no doubt in my mind that I would pour out the news of Erik's proposal before I realized what I had done. Aunt Sophia could sometimes make me so angry that I would snap at her before thinking.

My letters in hand, I went to the writing desk in the parlor and began to undo the seal of the topmost envelope. It was from Elizabeth, and she was asking if I would be so kind as to join her for a day of shopping tomorrow. Once I read through her note, I selected the next, which was from Georgiana, who asked if I might accompany her to a party in three days. Setting that one aside, I picked up the last envelope, which I opened with much eagerness.

It was, of course, from Papa, who appeared to be missing me a great deal. Mama was always away, he said, going to tea parties, small dances, and other such things, all of which bored him greatly, which was why he never went along with her. He much preferred to remain at home and read.

I smiled and shook my head. Papa went to very few balls and assemblies, though Nathaniel was very fond of them. Perhaps I should ask Nathan to accompany Mama, if Papa would not.

The letter concluded with hopes of my having a good time in town, and that if I needed money, I should write immediately. I laughed and began writing my replies to my friends and family.

I was barely through my note to Elizabeth when the bell rang. From where I sat, I heard the footman answer, then the sound of footsteps approaching. There was a brief knock, and the servant entered the room with a stiff bow.

"Lord Erik Laurent to see you, Miss," he announced.

* * *

As a great opera patron, Erik should have been lost in the music, songs, and magic of the performance last night. However, sitting behind Belle was a distraction, for the light scent of her perfume had a great effect on his senses, and the warmth of her very being seemed to call out to him.

'_My fiancée_,' his mind kept reminding him. '_My wife-to-be_.'

True, there were still formalities he must go through in order for their engagement to be official in English society, but Erik was confident that there would be no difficulties concerning his marriage to Annabelle. Any parent would be glad of their daughter marrying a rich French nobleman, and Erik believed that Belle's mother, Lady Woodworth, would be ecstatic at her daughter's situation. And since it was a love-match as well, Lord Woodworth would have no qualms about his beloved daughter's engagement to a man she cared for and who loved her in return.

The evening had passed sluggishly, and he had been in dire need to speak with Belle, but with the Darcys accompanying them, it was impossible. Erik had been forced to keep his distance during the opera and the carriage ride home, his mind thinking through what he would have to do once dawn came.

He slept fitfully, and woke with a knot in his stomach. After forcing down some breakfast, Erik went through his wardrobe, selecting his best of every piece of clothing he had and sorting through them all in an attempt to find the finest outfit he could. Nadir was threatening him in Persian within an hour, and after two hours more, Erik finally decided on what he would wear.

Dressed in a coat of velvet the color of emeralds, with a white shirt, a white cravat with an emerald pin, black boots, black pants and matching hat, Erik felt elegant and impressive. Once dressed, Nadir smoothed his hair and straightened him up until finally declaring that Erik was as perfect as his friend and faithful servant could make him.

With his stomach twisting around into knots, Erik took the Darcys' carriage to the house of Sir James Cartwright and knocked on the door. A stately butler answered, and upon Erik's inquiry as to whether the master of the house was in, informed him that Sir James had gone out, but would likely be returning shortly. Lady Cartwright was unavailable, but Miss Woodworth, the master's niece, would be able to receive him in the parlor.

Taking a deep breath, Erik followed the footman and heard him announce his name. He entered the room and found a most charming and lovely sight rising from a chair. There was Belle, soft and elegant in white muslin, the edges of her dress shining brightly with yellow ribbons. Her hair was woven into braids, entwined with matching yellow ribbons and pulled on top of her head, the design almost like a pale halo.

Erik found himself swallowing deeply as he made his bow, and without thinking, reached out for her hand. To his surprise, she placed her fingertips into his palm and allowed him to grace it with a light, feathery kiss. He watched in amusement as her cheeks flushed, though whether it was because she was embarrassed or pleased he did not know.

"Mademoiselle," he greeted her. "I hope that you are well this morning."

Belle blushed even redder and looked down. "I'm very well, thank you," she softly replied. "Would you care for something to drink, monsieur? Lemonade or tea, perhaps even coffee?"

Erik politely declined; do doubt it would disagree with him at the worst possible time. "I have come to see your uncle on urgent business, but it appears he will not be home for some time."

His glowing betrothed looked up, smiled and offered a chair, which he took directly across from her. "I'm afraid that is so," Belle said as she straightened her skirts. "My uncle is out at his club and visits it for rather long hours. He should be back before luncheon, which is not very long from now."

The two of them proceeded to make some fairly decent conversation while keeping a safe distance from one another, though they risked the occasional glance into each other's eyes. For Erik, watching Belle as she spoke, laughed, and joked was like watching art in motion, for the turn of her head, the elegant lines of her neck, and the small toss of her curled hair were all part of the beautiful young woman he had fallen in love with.

Then she smiled at him, and Erik felt his heart dance. It was that smile of hers, that kind, understanding, gentle smile that made him feel as though all was right with the world. It was a feeling he had not experience since before the accident, and he never wanted to loose that ever again.

The sound of the front door opening and closing halted their talk, and in came a man with a great family resemblance to Belle. Although the shape of the face was similar, Belle had dark brown hair and brown eyes, and this gentleman had black hair and eyes. Erik could only guess that this was Sir James Cartwright, Belle's uncle and guardian while she was in town.

Rising from his chair, Erik gave a formal bow. "Sir."

The bow was returned. "Lord Erik Laurent?" Sir James asked. "My servants tell me that you are here to see me. Shall we step into my study?"

* * *

I watched Erik leave the parlor with a sense of nervousness and excitement. Erik was going to ask Uncle for permission for us to wed, and that very thought thrilled me. However, with the two of them tucked away in Uncle's study, I would not be able to hear what they were saying, and I dearly wanted to know their conversation. Instead, I tried to stay occupied while waiting for Erik's return.

As time slowly began to pass, I found myself quite unable to sit still. I tried sewing, reading, and looking out the window, but none of it helped. Eventually, I began pacing the hallway in front of the closed door of my uncle's study, and that seemed to help, if only a little.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Erik emerged, but with a solemn face. He gave me an apologetic look, shook his head, and bowed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he rose to full height. "He refused me."

My heart froze and dropped to my feet. "What? Why?" I gasped, my eyes filling with tears.

Erik offered me his handkerchief. "I do not know, he did not give a very satisfactory answer, but I have my suspicions."

Before I could ask what they were, he pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. In that moment, I felt as though I were wrapped in perfect warmth and joy, and just as I wished it would go on forever, he pulled away.

"I will speak with you soon," Erik whispered before vanishing out the front door.

Heartbroken, I pressed Erik's handkerchief to my eyes and ran upstairs to my room.

* * *

That evening, dinner was silent. Ellis, who had tried to cheer me up during the hours I spent weeping, finally managed to convince me to go downstairs and join my family for dinner. I did not feel like facing my uncle, nor my aunts, but when another maid arrived with summons to be downstairs for the evening meal, I had no choice but to go. So, putting on a brave face, I went.

During all of the meal's courses, I ate little and said nothing. The food tasted like dust, and I felt as though I were walking all over my heart. My aunts and uncle said nothing as well, though I could feel their eyes upon me during the whole meal.

Finally, the dishes were cleared away, and just as I was about to go up to my room, Uncle called to me. "Belle, would you come into my study, please?"

Of course, I had no choice but to obey, but to my surprise, Aunt Josephine and Aunt Sophia accompanied us there as well. Uncle waved me to a chair, and began pacing as I took my seat.

"Annabelle, do you realize that Erik Laurent has asked for your hand in marriage?" he said. I did, and told him so. "And are you aware that the man is French, from a land far different than England and one that is of lower standards in society, manners, and pride?"

I gaped. Had my uncle refused Erik because he was _French_? That was absurd! Really, to hate a man just because he is not English was just, well, foolishness.

"Uncle, have you rejected this proposal because of Erik's nationality?" I asked.

"Well, of course!" Aunt Sophia put in. "A French nobleman indeed! We know nothing of his background, who his family is. Even if they were of decent breeding and wealth, why, that would compare to nothing that good, decent, Englishmen could provide a Miss Woodworth!"

Aunt Josephine nodded. "And their ways are not ours. Their moralities, forwardness, and lack of mannerisms are so below you, Annabelle. It would be far better for you to marry a fellow countryman. Even a clergyman would be preferable to a French gentleman!"

"If there even is such a thing as a French gentleman," Uncle muttered.

I was ready to cry again. "But I _love_ him," I cried while pressing the handkerchief to my eyes.

Uncle sighed and rolled his eyes. "Love is all very grand, my child, but it is not everything. A woman of your birth must consider marrying a man of family, wealth, and sound English morals. Erik Laurent is none of those things, and your father would never forgive me if I allowed you to marry so beneath you in all of those areas."

A gentle hand rested on my shoulder. "Someday, you will find a man that both deserves you and meets the approval of your family," Aunt Josephine whispered to me. "You found love once; I am sure you will be able to find it again."

I looked over at her. "If I can't marry Erik, then I won't marry at all," I boldly replied.

Uncle came over and gripped my chin, forcing me to look up at him. "You will never say that again," he snapped. "If you were to marry him, you will be disinherited from this family and none of us will ever speak or see you again after your wedding day, do you understand? Throwing your life away for a deformed Frenchman will earn you nothing except the hatred of your family and the social disgrace of never being acknowledged by them again."

Biting my lip to keep from saying something I would probably later regret, I shook off his hand and stormed up to my room, locking myself inside with my very sympathetic maid.

* * *

Pacing around his rooms in the Darcy house, Erik felt ready to strangle someone, though preferably Belle's uncle. In his mind's eye, Erik imagined his hands wrapping around the throat of Sir James Cartwright and watching the idiotic man turn several shades of purple. To think that Belle, sweet, kind, amusing Belle, was related to a pompous fop like that! It was absurd!

The moment Erik entered Sir James's study, he knew what kind of man this was. Everything in the room was meant to impress any visitors who stepped inside. The books on the shelves were obviously for show and had clearly never been touched, except, perhaps, to be dusted by a maid. There were several nautical instruments scattered about the room, also untouched and also for show.

Biting back a sigh at such a waste, Erik had then stated his reason for visiting. He was in love with Miss Annabelle Woodworth and wished to ask permission to wed her. If Sir James was the incorrect person to speak with, then perhaps Erik would write to Lord Woodworth and ask to visit Huntington Hall to speak of his intentions.

Sir James had merely waved his words aside. "No need for that, considering that my brother-in-law will feel as I do about this," he said nonchalantly. "There will be no marriage between you and Miss Woodworth."

Needless to say, Erik had been shocked. Surely the man knew that this would be Belle's last chance at finding love and happiness in her life? As much as it pained him to think it, it might even be her last chance at marriage. What could the man be thinking of?

"No one in the Woodworth line, nor the Cartwright family, has ever married anyone lower than a minor English noble," Sir James was blathering on. "Annabelle surely knows this, but as a woman, she has little sense and is prone to her emotions. She has clearly not thought about this."

He looked up at Erik. "We know nothing of you, nor your family. You may be good friends with the Darcys of Pemberley, but you will never do for a Miss Woodworth, unless you were of significantly high birth," Sir James eyed the younger man up and down doubtfully, "but then, French nobility is nothing to the ancient and well-known families of England."

It had taken all of Erik's will not to grab the man by his coat and shake him. How dare he speak so about Annabelle, who had far more wit in one finger than this man in his entire body? And how dare he speak so about Erik's family, an ancient French line that could be traced back further than six hundred years?

Holding back his fury, Erik had bowed himself out of the study, bid a sweet farewell to his beloved Belle, and left the Cartwright house with the softness of Belle's lips lingering on his. The sensation of their first kiss kept him from wrecking the Darcys' carriage and his bedroom, but only just. He had arrived back at his friends' home in angered silence and gone straight upstairs to think.

Sighing, Erik collapsed onto his bed and stared at the canopy above him. He must find a way to obtain permission to marry Belle. Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth would help him; they were both so clever, it should be no difficulty creating some sort of plan.

The thought of such devoted, good-hearted friends calmed him somewhat, allowing him to float deep into a dreamless, peaceful sleep. Tomorrow would be another day, and with the Darcys on his side, it would surely be a bright one.

* * *

AN: More fun and drama to come. Please review! Thanks!


	16. Devising a Plan

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything from _**Pride and Prejudice**_ or _**Phantom**_, even though I wish I did.

AN: Yes, more drama to come, but also some romance to make sure things don't get too depressing for our dear characters. I hope that everyone enjoys and will review! Thanks!

**Chapter 16: Devising a Plan:**

I spent two days in my room, refusing to see anyone. The door was kept locked, and I spent my time alternating between crying and staring at the wall, wondering why life was so cruel.

My keeping indoors, however, did not prevent anyone from coming to see me. Aunt Sophia had come to my room several times, knocking harshly on the door and demanding that I come out and act like a proper lady of society. She scolded me through the door, saying I was acting like a lovesick foolish girl and that I was being ungrateful to the family by not dining and going out with them.

Twice Aunt Josephine had come, knocking hesitantly and begging me to come out and at least take a walk in the sun. When that did not lure me from my self-made prison, she sent in messages under the door, saying how terrible the whole thing was, but that it was for the best, and that she was sure I would find love again during my life.

Of course, I ignored all of this. I didn't care what my aunts and uncle thought of me, or that if I did not come out of my room soon, all London would begin to talk. No doubt my aunts were spreading the word that I was ill or had a bad case of the headache, but even that would not last for more than a week, and once enough time had passed, people would begin wondering about my sudden absence from society. Gossip and speculations would spread, and if there was one thing that my aunts and uncle hated, it was gossip about them. This, of course, was why they wanted me to come out.

I think that they did worry about me, if only just a little, but they probably worried about the family and its reputation more. That was why I stayed in my room – I simply didn't care what the town thought about them, not after what they had done to me.

For a while, I considered fleeing back to Huntington, but knew it would not be wise. Mama would scream the roof down with lectures of her own, as well as harsh words for my leaving her brother and sisters so quickly and in such a fix. And, of course, there was the fact that I was fleeing in the midst of the social season with a great deal of money spent on new gowns for me, all of which would go to waste with my not wearing them. Papa wouldn't care about the money, but Mother would likely faint while remembering the sum spent on me.

I pushed all that out of my mind, instead focusing on Erik, the one man who had fallen in love with me and asked for my hand, the one who had been refused simply because he was French. Ellis thought it as ridiculous as I, and was good enough to be a voice for my feelings. I spent at least an hour a day listening to her rant about how unjust my uncle was being, and how she wasn't surprised.

"Sir James is a bit of an idiot, since he's the younger son," she said. "Your grandmother, the Dowager Lady Cartwright, spoiled him far more than your Uncle John. Thank goodness Lord John went to a great college of learning and turned out right as rain. Meanwhile, Sir James did poorly in school, merely graduated at a barely passing level, and remains a fool. At least he won't be inheriting the Cartwright estate, thanks to Lord John having a son."

Ellis also went on with thoughts of what my father would say if he were here. "After all, he's the head of the Woodworth family, now that you grandfather's gone, rest his soul," she crossed herself. "Why you don't write him and ask for help is beyond my understanding!"

She couldn't possibly know that I worried about what Papa would say as much as I didn't care what my uncle and aunts did. Papa's opinion of me was worth everything, and if I wrote and asked for permission to wed Erik and was refused, my world would end. I would lose either Erik or my father, and I could not live with the idea of having to choose one or the other.

'_But choose I must, and do it soon_,' I realized on the third morning of my seclusion.

If the worst should happen and I were forced to decide to return to my father's home or to go with Erik wherever he wanted to flee to, I would go with my betrothed. I had wanted to be in love for so long, and now that it was here in the palm of my hand, I would not let it go. I would rather be happy with Erik than missing him at Huntington, where I would never see him again.

Then, on the afternoon of my third day locked in my room, Ellis rushed into my room with a note. As she had done every other time she had delivered a tray or message, my maid shut and locked the door behind her before anyone or anything else could get in –she was that quick.

"A message from Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, Miss Belle!" she exclaimed in a whisper, in case anyone were listening in. "Read it, quick!"

The note was full of concern and sympathy from my friends. Both Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth had heard the story from Erik, and greatly desired to see me as soon as I was able.

_I would have written sooner, but I felt it safer to wait and hear from you first_, Elizabeth wrote. _When you did not, I decided that perhaps waiting had not been the best thing to do_.

The message concluded with a plea to join them on an outing tomorrow, where we would take a journey to one of the Great Parks for the day. Since a bit of fresh air would do me good, I wrote a note of acceptance, saying I would be ready for them after breakfast.

'_Hopefully my aunts and uncle will be gone by then, and I will be free to act as I wish_,' I thought, watching the envelope disappear out the door with Ellis.

In the meantime, my mind was on two topics: the first was a hope that Erik would be there, and the second was what on Earth I would wear.

* * *

I woke with a feeling of hope and happiness I had not felt in days. I would be with friends, and they would give me the love and support that my family would not.

After a quick breakfast snuck up to me by Ellis, I dressed in a white muslin dress and red jacket. Once my hair was carefully pinned up and my face framed on either side by a carefully made curl, I placed a straw bonnet with red ribbons on top of my head. A red reticule dangled from my wrist, the inside of it filled with money and other things a lady might need on a day out, and I was ready.

Now came the difficult part: getting outside.

To my surprise, the servants were all quite eager to help sneak me out of the house. Ellis said it was because they disagreed with my family's idea of me putting aside love to marry for money and English bloodlines. They also believed that Sir James was a fool who had acted quite out of bounds.

"The butler says that Mr. Laurent should have gone straight to Huntington to ask for your hand, not to your uncle," Ellis had said while doing my hair. "No doubt that Sir James and your aunt Sophia will have written to Lord Woodworth with all sorts of silly, false stories about the whole matter."

So now the hired help were all willing to aid me in seeing the Darcys. Although they were loyal to my family by not spreading gossips about them, they all agreed that my aunts and uncle could be rather short-sighted, and in most cases, were not very sensible. This, I suppose, is why no one in my family suspected anything of the servants when it came to helping me.

It was the head housekeeper who signaled that everyone had gone. The children's nurse always took them out after breakfast, so they wouldn't see me go. Aunt Josephine had gone to visit friends with Aunt Sophia, and Sir James was at his club for the day, so the house was safe to leave. Ellis said that she had sent word to the Darcy house through one of their maids, and that the carriage would be at the front door two hours or so after breakfast.

To my relief, the plan worked perfectly. After my guardians had gone, I was able to whisk myself out the door the moment the Darcy carriage arrived, practically leaping inside and almost landing directly on Erik's lap.

"Oh, goodness!" I gasped, hurriedly removing myself from the awkward position to take a proper seat. "Please forgive me! I didn't see you there, and was in such a hurry to leave that I-"

Fitzwilliam chuckled and shook his head. "Believe me when I say we all understand your eagerness to flee your uncle's house, Belle," he teased. "Now, are you ready and settled?"

I nodded and leaned back in my seat. I was facing the front of the carriage with Elizabeth to my left, and Fitzwilliam seated across from her. This meant, of course, that Erik was sitting before me, his eyes intensely focused on my face.

"Are you alright?" Elizabeth asked. "You are so pale."

Pressing a hand to her arm, I assured her that I was well, and merely in need of a day away from my family. My friends agreed, and tried to turn the conversation to more pleasant things. Elizabeth and I chatted about the latest gowns she had purchased, and of the newest silks and muslins that had arrived in London from Paris. The men spoke of horses and little else.

Within an hour, we arrived at the park, and I could not help but sigh at the sight of beautiful woods, fields of flowers, and herds of animals. A small breeze came through the open window, carrying with it the scent of grass, water, and blooming flowers. I inhaled and closed my eyes.

* * *

As Erik stood and watched Belle walk across the grass towards the waiting blanket, his heart filled with worry at seeing her almost fall onto the blue material spread out upon the grass. In the carriage, she had seemed so fragile that he expected her to break, though the color had come back into her cheeks upon their arrival at the park. Apparently country air truly was an effective cure-all.

With the blanket spread, the footmen set the picnic baskets down and bowed before returning to the carriage. Elizabeth sat beside Belle and both ladies began removing the food from the baskets, arranging them carefully so that the men would find places to sit as well. Carefully avoiding the artfully arranged platters, Erik sat next to the woman he considered his fiancée, despite the rules of English society saying otherwise.

As she handed him a plate of delicate sandwiches, Erik saw a faint blush in Belle's cheeks and suppressed a grin. With a sly flick of the wrist, Erik let his fingers caress hers in an intimate gesture that made her look up at him in surprise. Again she blushed, but this time she smiled at him as well, and Erik felt his heart beat faster as he briefly remembered the sweet kiss they had shared only a few short days ago.

Just then, Fitzwilliam cleared his throat. "Forgive my interrupting the charming sight that you two provide, Erik and Belle, but I'm afraid that Elizabeth and I have another motive for inviting you out here with us today."

Annabelle's head turned towards them. "What do you mean?"

Erik bit back a sigh. When he had informed the Darcys of his plight, Erik had been relieved when both had promised to think of something to help him win Annabelle's hand from her family. He hadn't expected them to come up with the idea to spirit them five miles out of town just to talk, nor did he really believe that the Cartwright servants would go behind their master and mistress's backs to help Belle in her situation.

Elizabeth reached out for her friend's hand. "What Mr. Darcy means is that we have come up with a way to help you," she softly replied.

Fitzwilliam nodded. "We both know that Sir James is a fool, and that his wife, though affectionate towards you, is quick to submit to her husband's opinions. Your Aunt Sophia is of no help either, and we have no doubt that all three have likely written to Lord Woodworth using the worst sort of false tales to persuade him not to allow your union with Erik."

He continued, "I know Lord Woodworth very well, and consider him a good man with a great deal of sense, but I do not trust his wife, nor her opinion of someone. Forgive my saying so, Belle, but your mother can be quite vocal in her thoughts, and I know your father is prone to agreeing with her in an attempt to keep peace and quiet in the house. It is quite possible that he might not allow the wedding simply because he wishes to keep your mother in good spirits, and therefore silent."

"That is why we think it would be best for you both to elope from England," Elizabeth said.

Now Erik was interested. "Elope? How, and from where?"

To Erik, the plan was amazingly simple. The Darcys would take a house in Bath or Brighton, both a fair distance from London, and would invite Belle to go along as a particular companion to Elizabeth and Georgiana. Meanwhile, Erik would supposedly take a carriage in the opposite direction, traveling for a day or so before switching directions and joining Belle to run away together.

"What happens after Erik comes to meet us?" Belle asked, looking from one Darcy to the other.

"He should arrive after dark or very early in the morning to avoid being seen," Fitzwilliam replied. "You can then marry quietly in a church in England and run away to wherever you wish to go."

Erik quickly began thinking of places around Europe to which he could take Belle. He had no doubts she would love France, but that would have to be the last place they visited –Lord Woodworth would likely search there first for his wayward daughter, and once he took her back, Erik would never see her again.

Belle sipped a cup of cold tea and set the cup down in its saucer with a gentle clink. "My grandmama, the dowager Lady Woodworth, lives in Italy. I have always wanted to visit her there, but Mama said that it wasn't proper for a lady to travel unless she was married or widowed, so I never went. I think Grandmama would like to see me very much because, if I may say so without sounding too vain, I am her eldest and favorite grandchild."

The idea did not sit well with Erik. If the elder Lady Woodworth was the mother of Belle's father, then the woman would no doubt write to her son and tell him that Belle was in Italy, which would ruin everything. Belle would be hauled back to England and Erik would be left behind, alone and without his love. It was not to be thought of.

As though reading his friend's mind, Fitzwilliam voiced similar concerns, which Annabelle was quick to dispel. "Grandmama would never betray my trust, and she loves me too dearly to destroy my happiness. If Erik and I were to run to her after our marriage has taken place, she would welcome us and keep our secret until the day we reveal it to my father. With Grandmama on our side, Papa would eventually accept my marriage to Erik and bring us back into his good graces."

Though he longed to protest, Erik saw Belle's excitement at the prospect of seeing her grandmother and stopped his arguments in his throat. If she trusted in her grandmother's confidence, then perhaps he should do the same.

"Very well," Erik relented, "but Darcy, once Annabelle and I are safely away and married, won't you and Elizabeth come under scrutiny from her family? No doubt the Cartwright and Woodworth families will be after you for explanations!"

Elizabeth gave him a knowing smile. "Yes, but they can hardly do so without proof, and of course Belle's family will want to keep things quiet until they are sure of all the facts. When they receive word that you are married and living in great style in Italy or France, I am sure that they will calm down."

"Besides, they can hardly speak against an old and wealthy line like the Darcys," Fitzwilliam said before popping a small pastry into his mouth.

Chuckling, Erik shook his head and picked up a small sandwich as the others began discussing which city to visit: Bath or Brighton. Neither seemed very appealing to him, but when Fitzwilliam mentioned that Bath was known for its music halls, concerts, and other entertainments, Erik thought it the perfect place to run away from, and said so.

"With so much going on, and with so many people going here-and-there at all hours, Belle and I can leave town with no one the wiser," he told his friends and fiancée. "No one will miss us if we slip away in the middle of the night, and the next morning, the Darcys can claim that they were so exhausted from attending another gathering that they never noticed Belle was gone until it is too late to give chase."

Belle smiled. "It certainly does work to our advantage, doesn't it?" she said. "And even though I would like to see a bit more of Bath than a passing over the street, I know that it is nothing compared to what Italy and its other fine cities have to offer."

"Then it's settled," Fitzwilliam declared. "Elizabeth and I shall formally invite you to join us on a trip to Bath, and from there you will make your way to wherever it is you wish to travel to in Europe."

With a nod, everyone agreed and settled back to enjoy their day at the park.

* * *

After such a liberating and wonderful afternoon of walking, picnicking, and riding through the park with Erik and the Darcys, I was not looking forward to returning to my uncle's house. The warmth I felt in Erik's presence and the laughter provided by Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam would be sadly missed at my return to Sir James's house and the confines of my room.

However, there was hope, and that was my escape to Bath. Elizabeth would arrange everything, and all I had to do was play my small part in fleeing this house with my maid in tow.

I slipped into the house during supper, when all the family was busy eating in the dining room, well out of hearing range of the front door opening and closing. The butler allowed me in, and the cook sent Ellis up with a supper tray for me through the servant's stair. I ate my meal quickly and told Ellis all about Elizabeth's plan while she helped me ready for bed.

"It's a fair crazy scheme, Miss, but I think it might work," she said while brushing out my hair. "Of course, you'll be taking me along to Italy, won't you, Miss Belle?"

It was more a demand than a request, and I hastily assured her that I would take her with me for as long as she desired to serve as my maid. Ellis snorted her agreement and helped me into bed.

That night, I slept fitfully, and the next morning I woke to my maid shaking me gently and urging me to get up, for Sir James desired to see me at once in the parlor.

Dressing quickly in a plain white muslin gown, I made my way downstairs in a slow, dignified way. The butler announced me into the parlor where not only my uncle waited, but also my aunts. They all turned to look at me as I entered, and after a brief curtsey, I sat down in a chair by the window to enjoy the sunshine.

My uncle spoke first. "Annabelle, a letter has just arrived for you directly from Mrs. Darcy," he said. "Since it has come so early, I think it must be of some importance."

The envelope was handed to me on a silver tray by a waiting footman, who gave me a discreet wink of encouragement as he bowed. I didn't dare smile, but my eyes showed my amusement as I thanked him and opened the letter. I already knew the contents, but proceeded to read it anyway, if only for appearances sake. After I had read it twice, I looked up at my expectant family members.

"Mrs. Darcy writes that she and Mr. Darcy are to visit Bath for several weeks, and has invited me to accompany them as a particular companion to both her and Georgiana," I softly told them.

Aunt Sophia stiffened in her chair. "And what of Mr. Laurent, their houseguest?" she pressed.

I pretended to read the note over again. "She declares that Mr. Laurent is to head north to visit the Bingleys' rented house near the town of Meryton, and will likely remain there for some time," I replied while folding the letter and returning it to the envelope. I invoked a few false tears as I said, "Apparently he does not wish to be anywhere near me after what happened here at the house."

Glancing up at my uncle, I saw that he and my aunts had relaxed their postures. "Well," he said, "if Mrs. Darcy and Miss Georgiana Darcy have asked you as a particular friend to accompany them to Bath, I see no reason to object." He looked over at Aunt Josephine. "What do you think, my dear?"

She smiled fondly at me. "I think it would do you good to visit Bath, Annabelle. You will find many amusements there, and will likely meet new friends."

Aunt Sophia merely sniffed and scowled, not daring to say anything against them.

Rising, I gave a swift curtsey, excusing myself to write a reply to Elizabeth and pack my things. The first part of the plan was in motion, and hopefully, within the month, I would be with Erik forever and always.

* * *

AN: Please review!


	17. Bath

Disclaimer: I wish that I owned dear Erik and all things _**Pride and Prejudice**_, but those characters already belong to someone else, and so are not mine. Only original people/places/things are mine.

AN: I thought I should tell everyone that this was intended to be one hugely long story, so don't think that this will end anytime soon (winks). Trust me, there's lots more fun to be had here with Erik and Belle! Enjoy and please review!

**Chapter 17: Bath:**

After I had received Elizabeth's "invitation", I spent a great deal of time and money on gowns to wear to the renowned city of Bath. Aunt Josephine wouldn't hear of my wearing anything that wasn't new, as there would be many wealthy families and gentlemen visiting the assemblies, balls, parties, operas, and music halls, and she wished for me to look my best during my entire stay there.

My aunts and uncle were not the only ones thrilled at my travels. Mama had been told of it by Sir James, and had written to me of how fortunate I was to be going to Bath. Two pouches of money had been sent as well, one to pay for my new clothes, and the other for any expenses that might come along in the future. Mama also asked that I be a good girl, and that if any eligible men asked me for a dance, I should accept and have a good time.

Of course, I knew that Mama secretly hoped that I would marry a gentleman of good fortune and breeding while away, but she genuinely meant for me to have a wonderful time. My mother had never been to Bath, had longed to go for several years, but Papa had rolled his eyes and proclaimed that she could either go to London or Bath, not both. Since London was the center of society and where the Royal Family tended to be, Mama had chosen that instead.

Through the rest of her note, Mama also mentioned the letters she had received from Sir James, and berated me for foolishly falling in love with a Frenchman that the family knew next to nothing about.

_Really, Annabelle, I don't know what you are about_, she wrote. _Not only is Mr. Laurent __**not**__ from England, but of his family, fortune, and connections, we have no knowledge of them, and I know for a fact your father would not allow you to wed some strange foreigner from another land. I advise you to go with the Darcys and forget this whole thing._

_Also, once you are out in the society of Bath, you must write and tell me all about it. Perhaps I can then convince your Papa to allow me to take Nathaniel there next summer, when I am sure that many families with young ladies will be visiting._

My mother's harsh words about Erik served to make me more determined to succeed in my elopement. No doubt she was right about Papa disliking my marrying someone he had no information of; after all, I was his eldest child and only daughter, and he doted on me in a way most fathers never would. Papa would always be protective of me, and it was very probable that he would never approve of a Frenchman for a son-in-law.

Holding Mama's letter to heart, I went about my business of preparing for my stay in Bath. Elizabeth and I kept frequent correspondence with one another, with me constantly informing her of my letters from home. Elizabeth would then reply with assurances that everything would be alright, and that she and Fitzwilliam would do everything in their power to make it so.

With every note she sent me, Elizabeth's words were strong, but gentle, and gave me the courage I needed to pretend that I was happy about going to Bath, that I was trying to forget about the mysterious French gentleman known as Erik Laurent, who was soon to disappear into the countryside to visit the house of his friends, Mr. and Mrs. Bingley. My family would never know how wrong they were in thinking that I could so easily forget him, until it was too late.

Finally, a little more than three weeks after Elizabeth's invitation, she wrote to inform me that Mr. Darcy had found and rented a fine house, and that I was to be ready to travel in a week. Erik was to leave five days from now, giving him ample time to be spotted going in the opposite direction of us.

Practically skipping with joy and nervousness, I packed my things, and when the Darcy carriage came two days later, Ellis and I were both eager to leave my uncle's house.

However, I was not easily freed. Before I set foot outside the door, Aunt Sophia gave me a sound lecture on how I was to behave myself in Bath, and to be sure to stay on the good side of my hostesses, Mrs. Darcy and Miss Georgiana Darcy. I was to attend whatever events they did, and to attract attention by dancing too much.

Meanwhile, Aunt Josephine offered me words of encouragement, telling me to enjoy myself, and that I must write and tell her of the plays, music halls, and the opera houses they had there. Sir James said very little, much to my relief, merely a brief farewell and that he hoped my journey went smoothly.

Since I had no intention of following any of my family's advice, except the part of possibly enjoying myself, I left London with a light heart. And since I had the Darcys to talk with on the journey, it was going to be a pleasant one as well.

* * *

Our arrival at Bath was one filled with great relief. Too many hours and days had we been in the carriage, but since it was a private one, we at least had privacy and the ability to play games while we journeyed. Georgiana was also a most entertaining talker, and with Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam there, conversations were not often dull.

It was noon the next day when we pulled up to the front of our residence, a fine house made of brick and a few marble pillars. Servants streamed out to take our trunks and bags while Fitzwilliam assisted us ladies out of the confines of the carriage and led us inside, which was just as fine as the exterior. I gasped as I turned to look at everything.

The walls were perfectly smooth white plaster painted with gold trimming, and several statues stood at the foot of a tremendous stairway that led upstairs. The floor was white marble polished to perfection, and there was a parlor, a sitting room, a library, and a study on the first floor. It was an exquisite house.

Upstairs I had been given a lovely crème-and-gold room next to Georgiana's, and once she was clear of the chaotic swarm of servants seeing to our baggage, Ellis – who had accompanied me in another carriage with Elizabeth and Georgiana's maids – inquired as to where I would be staying and entered my quarters to begin unpacking my belongings while I rested, dressed, and went down for dinner.

That night, Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth, Georgiana and I all ate a lovely meal provided by the cook and began making plans on what to do the next day. There were so many assemblies and parties going on every night that it would be impossible to attend them all, so we would have to be very careful of where we went.

I went to bed that night with a cluttered mind, and could not sleep. Erik's handsome face filled my head, and I could not help but think about when he would arrive and what we would do. I knew he was to arrive within a few days, and that I would have to pretend to be a sociable young woman until he did. If I did not go out into society as was expected, people would begin to talk, and that would be the worst thing that could happen. I did not need people growing suspicious of me so soon.

'_At least there was a great deal to distract me here in Bath_,' I thought while staring up at the canopy above my head.

However, I intended not to enjoy much of the town. I fully intended to think about my elopement and which of my clothes I would be able to escape with when Erik arrived, as it wouldn't be much. Ellis had packed all of the new gowns I had purchased for my stay in Bath, but beneath them she had included some of my older clothes, including my favorite ones from Huntington and some of my best dresses. She and I would have to choose very carefully, as she would be modifying their styles to make them appropriate for a married woman.

I sighed at the thought of becoming a wife, closing my eyes to think about how much I had wanted this, and how long. I had always dreamed of marrying someone I could feel some sort of affection for, and now I was engaged to a man who truly loved me for who I was. Erik did not want or need my fortune, nor the connections I could bring, for he had both of those in plenty. He loved me and respected me, Annabelle Woodworth, for who I was.

Sighing, my eyes fluttered shut in contentment as I drifted off to sleep.

* * *

In order to fit into Bath, I was forced to be the dutiful friend and companion of Elizabeth and Georgiana, if only for appearances sake.

For nearly a week, I did my best to remain the proper social lady. During the day, I went with Georgiana to the bookshops, rode through the streets and parks with Elizabeth, and made sure to take walks around the pump room with my companions. At night, I attended balls and assemblies, putting on my best gowns and attempting to appear quite the unattached young woman. Gentlemen asked for dances, which I grudgingly gave, and tried to be light and carefree as the rest of the ladies there. My polite social mask did not waver much, and when it did, I always proclaimed it to be the heat of the room and my need for a glass of some cool refreshment.

However, my heart was not truly there when I danced or smiled. I did as I was taught, smiling and acting as though nothing was wrong, but inside, my heart ached for Erik's presence. I wanted to see him smile at me as we danced, talked, and teased one another on the dance floor or sat along the walls. I longed to know that his tall, strong form was there, holding back all other male attempts to engage me for a dance or conversation.

Elizabeth did her best to keep me in high spirits, as did Georgiana and Fitzwilliam. Their efforts did not often fail, for I was happy to be with them, but none of the Darcys could take the place of the one I longed to have beside me.

Then, one day, a letter came.

* * *

Being so far from Belle for such a long time was excruciating for him, more than Erik thought it would be. He had thought that a week or two would pass without much trouble, as he would be traveling slowly in one of the Darcys' carriages and staying at some of the best inns that the countryside had to offer travelers of the upper class.

To pass the time, he dined in his room, read constantly in the privacy of his rented rooms or inside the carriage, and tried to keep his mind on where he would take his new beloved bride once they were gone from England. But most importantly, he tried to focus on how to whisk Belle away from Bath without raising too many alarms. Eventually, Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam would have to alert the Cartwrights and the Woodworths of Belle's 'disappearance,' but that would not be for some time after they were married and gone.

The thought of traveling to Venice was not a pleasant one. First of all, he did not trust her grandmother, either, but if Belle wanted to go there, he would do so, for her sake. Secondly, it was a long distance, and Belle was not accustomed to long journeys. Third, he knew that his fiancée would not leave her trusted maid behind, just as Erik would never leave Nadir, who was presently keeping himself hidden in Bath while secretly arranging for Erik and Belle's escape from England.

Finally, after three tortuous days of traveling away from his love, Erik ordered the driver to cover the Darcys' markings on the carriage and turn around to head in the direction of Bath. Before he did that, however, he had made sure to send a message to Nadir, who would be able to forward a letter that Erik had composed for his beloved's eyes alone.

In his heart, Erik hoped that his letter would bring comfort to Belle, who he knew must be suffering as much as he. And in providing some sort of hope to her, Erik could not help but feel as though he were giving just a little of it to himself.

* * *

I was still abed with my breakfast tray when Ellis rushed in with an envelope in her hand. She wordlessly handed the note to me, curtseyed, and whisked the tray away to let me read it in peace. Opening the seal, my heart nearly stopped at the sight of the signature. It was from Erik.

_My Dearest Belle_, it said,

_It has been unbearable with so far a distance between us, and with every mile I travel, my heart aches for you all the more. However, be assured that I will soon be arriving in Bath, and that my manservant, Nadir, will write as to the day and time I do. You need not bring a great deal from the Darcys' house, for once we are wed and far from England, I will give you everything your heart desires, for you have already given me all of mine._

_Always yours,_

_Erik_

Pressing the letter to my heart, I sighed. It was dated several days ago, and I had no doubt that Erik was close to Bath, if not already here. However, I had received no message from his servant, Nadir, so I could only assume that not all of our preparations were ready in place. I would simply have to be a little more patient and wait.

Ellis soon returned and helped me into a pretty lavender walking dress trimmed with white lace and ribbons, then put my hair up into a beribboned knot at the top of my head. I was silent through my dressing and toilette, and as though sensing my sad spirits, Ellis put a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Don't worry, Miss," she said. "Lord Erik will be here soon, and since I've already packed your most favorite things, we'll be ready to run the moment he arrives in his carriage."

I couldn't help but smile at her optimism and thanked her, to which she curtseyed. When she was finished seeing to my appearance, Ellis shooed me out of the room so that she could tidy up.

Temporarily freed from darker thoughts, I fled to the library. Elizabeth was there, as was Georgiana, both with their noses buried in a book. Fitzwilliam stood by the window with a letter in his hand. He looked up when he heard the door open, and smiled.

"Ah, Belle, good morning," he greeted me. "Please sit down. I've just received a note from Erik, who is now in Bath."

I nearly fainted in relief.

* * *

Darkness had long since settled into Bath, and the streets finally cleared of travelers and townsfolk. Parties, balls, operas, concerts, and all other entertainments were over, and the attendants of those events had settled into their beds. All was quiet and calm.

A dark, unmarked carriage pulled up in front of the Darcy house, drawing to a stop directly before the closed door. Moments passed, and two cloaked figures slipped silently out into the street, a large bag in each of their arms as they hurried forwards. The door of the carriage swung open and the two figures rushed inside, shutting the door behind them just as the driver urged the horses forward.

No one noticed a thing.

* * *

Sighing, I peeked out the drawn drapes around the window and tried to appear calm as the carriage drove along. Across from me was Ellis, her head leaning to the side as she slept. Beside her was a dozing Nadir, Erik's manservant and the one who had arranged everything so that we could leave England without suspicion – at least for now.

Beside me, I heard the sound of velvet brushing against silk, followed by the feeling of an arm slipping around my shoulders. Surprised, I turned to look up at my husband, a bright smile on my face despite the nervousness.

"What troubles you, my love?" he whispered, leaning closer so as not to wake the others. "I hope that you are not having second thought about our marriage, for it is far too late for that."

Closing my eyes, I felt his lips press against mine, softly and sweetly. He had been so attentive since our wedding this morning, and the fact that I was now Lady Annabelle Laurent had not fully come upon me. I still looked at my left hand quite often, just to be sure my wedding band was there.

As I had expected, the ceremony had been short, the clergyman delivering the briefest sermon he could muster and still have it be dignified before God and our two witnesses, who happened to be our servants. I wore a plain white muslin dress and a bonnet trimmed with white ribbons, which Ellis thought was too plain for me, but it was clear that Erik thought me the most beautiful bride in the world, so I did not mind.

After swearing to love, honor, and cherish one another, Erik and I had exchanged rings, and finally, we shared our first kiss as man and wife.

I had thought our first kiss at Sir James's house had been bliss; the one we shared on our wedding day had been heaven itself. Erik had put his arms around me the moment our lips had met, and I could feel a surge of warmth travel straight down to my toes. Later, I'd been told by both Ellis and Nadir that I practically glowed after the kiss.

With the license signed by preacher, witnesses and participants, it was immediately sealed and tucked away in Erik's pocket for safekeeping. Erik would have several copies made in Venice, which would be sent to London and France while the original would remain with him, just in case my family should catch up with us.

A yawn from across the carriage caused my husband and I to break apart. I blushed and ran a gloved hand down along the dark cloak I wore. Underneath it was the simple white muslin dress I had worn this morning to my wedding.

Across from me, my maid yawned and stretched a little. "Shall we be arriving at the coast soon?" Ellis asked sleepily. "We've been traveling since early this morning, and it would be just our luck if Sir James or someone else sent by your family caught up with us, Miss, I mean, Mrs. Laurent."

"Madame Laurent," Nadir replied, also waking from his rest. "She is Madame Annabelle Laurent, or Lady Laurent, if you prefer."

Ellis turned to glare at him. "Milady, then," she said with a huff.

Beside me, Erik chuckled. "We should be at Southampton just before supper," he informed us all. "We will eat, rest, then take the next ship bound for Italy. It is a passenger vessel, and therefore will be very comfortable for us all."

While the idea of sailing unnerved me, another thought on my mind made me uneasy. "Erik, dearest, don't think the worst of me when I say this, but don't you think people will raise a fuss about your," I lowered my voice, "mask?"

He merely chuckled once more and leaned forward to kiss me. "Darling, Nadir has that well in hand."

An object wrapped in silk passed from servant to master, and Erik proceeded to unwrap it before my eyes. It was a mask, perfectly tinted to the color of Erik's face so that he would appear to be a normal man, at least for the time that he wore it.

"It is something I had made sometime ago, after I had fully healed from the accident," Erik explained as I sat looking at it. "It was never fully completed, since I did not wish to appear flawless when I am not actually so, and therefore tucked it away, never to be used."

He held it up. "This will have me appear an unflawed man, but will be terribly uncomfortable. However, I shall wear this when we board our ship and whenever I appear on deck, though I do not intend to do so often."

I thought it quite brilliant of him, and told him so. He smiled and rewrapped it before handing it back to Nadir. "Since the mask is an imperfect design, Nadir has promised to trim it with silk or velvet to make it more comfortable for me before we board the ship. Once we reach Venice, however, I intend to wear my old mask wherever we are."

Smiling, I placed my hand atop his. Despite having the chance to appear a normal and unmarked face to the world, Erik still chose to wear his obvious white mask and not live a lie with his appearance. No doubt he had been ashamed of himself after the accident, but now that he was a husband to a woman he loved, and who loved him in return, he was willing to accept his life and live it to the fullest.

"I would not have it any other way," I whispered as he reached out and pulled me to him.

Closing my eyes, I let the soothing sway of the carriage rock me to sleep as Erik hummed a soft lullaby in my ears.

* * *

AN: Review!


	18. Italy

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything from _**Pride and Prejudice**_ or _**Phantom**_, even though I wish I did.

AN: Ah, Italia, one of the most romantic places on Earth. Our dear Erik and Belle are sure to have some fun while they're there! I hope that everyone enjoys the chapter and will review. Thanks!

**Chapter 18: Italy:**

Looking out over the water, I lay my head on Erik's shoulder and sighed. I felt a corner of his cloak lift and his arm gently wind around my waist to drift up to my shoulders. I knew that many of the passengers would think it scandalous that my husband and I were showing affection in public, but we didn't care; most of them were English, and once we were firmly on Italian soil, we would be free to be caring and in love while out in the streets. Italians were far more open to affection than we English were.

"Soon we will be safely on land, my love," Erik whispered to me softly, "and then we will be able to rest easier at night."

The fear of being caught had been our one concern on the long voyage to Venice. Thoughts of what Papa might say or do once he discovered that Erik and I had fled Bath together haunted me whenever I was alone, which thankfully was not often. Erik tended to stay as close as possible to me wherever I went, trailing close behind as though fearing I would leap off the ship and swim back to England.

"Which is silly," I had teased him once when we were alone in our cabin, after he had confessed his fear of my leaving him. "Swim back to England in this dress? It would drag me down faster than a bag of lead weights! Besides, I can't swim."

He'd laughed and claimed that the merfolk of the sea would save me and take me wherever it was I desired. "For you are so wonderful that they would be as enchanted with you as I am," he said, causing me to blush.

I think that perhaps our time alone together was the most blissful part of our journey. Although we were invited to dine with the captain and the other passengers in the large banquet cabin, those invitations were mostly refused, and for good reason.

For Erik, it was the horror of being recognized. Although Erik had his special mask to wear in public and appear normal, his greatest fear was that someone would notice it and speak out, drawing unneeded attention to us and our situation. Gossip at sea was one thing, but once we were on land, Erik knew that the passengers would tell their friends in town, and soon that talk would reach English shores, eventually bringing my father's anger to us.

However, my fears were different. I was more concerned about Erik himself, who was still uncomfortable around people. He disliked eating with people he did not know, and like Fitzwilliam Darcy, it tended to make him rather stiff and sometimes rude, just like he had been when we first met. He had softened a little, I think, thanks to my influence on him, but a man can not change overnight. Not that I wanted him to change in the first place –I might wish for Erik to be a bit more polite and sociable, but not to the point where he had to change who he was now; I loved Erik for himself, and had no desire to change him into someone else.

Because of our concerns, we spent much of our time alone in our cabin. However, I must say that being by ourselves wasn't a bad thing. True, Erik and I went up on deck for walks and to enjoy the fresh air, but being alone in our cabin, reading, playing cards, or just talking about things that interested us, was wonderful. We both had the chance to learn about each other's likes and dislikes, and about one another's faults. Thankfully, before we had a serious argument, we learned that we both had very different way of displaying our tempers: Erik tended to be more explosive while I remained rather cold in displaying my anger or disapproval of things. No doubt this information would prove invaluable in the future.

To our relief and amusement, Nadir and Ellis frequently joined us during our talks, adding their no-nonsense thoughts to conversations and making us all laugh at their jokes or observations of some of the other passengers and their servants. Erik enjoyed this a great deal, sometimes laughing loud at what had been said, and to see him so carefree brought great joy to my heart.

Although it was wonderful to pass the time with my husband and friends, both old and new, there was only so much a person could do while on a ship, and after a month or so of being at sea, cabin fever had begun to settle in. And now that land was in sight, everyone was starting to grow anxious to be on solid ground and see new faces.

However, it would be several hours before we reached our destination, which was rather irritating.

The arm around my shoulders pulled me a bit closer, the silk lining of the cloak shielding me from the breezes flowing off the Mediterranean. Though the days were warmer here than in England, the wind could still be felt.

"Are you happy with me, Belle?" Erik whispered to me. "Are you truly happy as Lady Laurent?"

I turned and smiled up at him, amused at the worried expression on his face. He wore his specially crafted mask, the one that helped make him appear 'normal.' Even though I had seen him in it before, I did not like him wearing it around me. The white mask was good enough for him, and therefore for me as well, but he wore it for the sake of keeping who we were a secret for as long as possible. Once we were settled in Italy, the white mask would emerge for always.

"I am very happy, my love," I whispered back, snuggling closer to him as we basked in the sunshine of a beautiful day.

"And you are not disgusted by what lies behind the mask?" he asked in a desperate voice. "You need not lie, for I could not bear it if you did."

Two weeks into the voyage, Erik had tucked us away in our cabin and shown me his entire face for the first time. I had been surprised at his sudden leap of faith in me, and when the mask had come off, had been horrified, but not for the reasons Erik expected.

My horror came from the idea of what my poor husband must have gone through, such as many years of pain and suffering, both physically and emotionally, because of his hunting accident. To have been burned in such a way must have been excruciating, and to have to hide himself from the world forever must have been torture.

When Erik had begun to cry at my expression, I had remained calm, quickly assuring him that I still loved him, and explained my thoughts and feelings to him when he asked why I didn't flee at the sight of his burnt flesh. I told him that, while it was disturbing, it truly did not trouble me. Yes, the flesh was red and slightly lumpy or peeling, and a bit of his right eye hung lower on his face, but I didn't find it hideous or intolerable. It took many hours for me to assure Erik that it was alright, and that he did not worry about my leaving him in Italy.

He had spent the entire night clinging to me in our bed, clearly terrified that my words were false, but when the next morning dawned and I was still there, peacefully resting in his arms, he calmed down and believed in my words of love and support for him.

Now, smiling, I looked up into my husband's green eyes. "I do not care about what you look like beneath the mask, Erik," I quietly assured him. "I love you for who you are, not for the appearance of your face." I paused. "Well, except for your eyes…I do love your green eyes."

Chuckling, he pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Thank you," he whispered. I could hear his heart in his words, and snuggled closer to him as the shore drifted closer.

* * *

It was mid-afternoon by the time our ship made port. Many of the passengers raced off the moment they were able while their servants hurried with their luggage. Since Erik and I were in no rush, and since we had so little with us, Nadir and Ellis were able to pack our few belongings in good order and ask a few of the ship's men to carry them down to the docks. We were the last to disembark, and therefore avoided the crowds, much to our relief.

Much to my surprise, it was quite easy to find a gondolier who spoke fairly decent, though broken, English. Showing him the address of the house we desired to go to, he understood and was willing to take us to my grandmother's house. Half of our belongings were loaded into the gondola I was traveling in with Erik, while the rest went in another gondola with Nadir and Ellis, who would follow close to ours.

I suppose it was a good thing I had brought very few dresses with me, especially since I had been able to purchase several new ones when the ship stopped for supplies in Spain. These new gowns were then placed in a new trunk Erik had bought for me, claiming I needed it to go with my new gowns.

"New things for a newly married woman," Ellis had said while packing them away the day I had gotten them. "We can't have you wearing dresses made for a maiden when you're now a wedded lady."

So my one trunk and a small suitcase (brought with me from Bath) were the only things I had. Erik had also brought little with him, though he'd been able to send the rest of his belongings back to his home in France. He had also said he would merely buy new clothes on the way to Italy, just as he'd done for me, so he only had a trunk and a suitcase as well.

Gliding through the canals of Venice had to be one of the most romantic things in the world. Our gondolier had a wonderful voice as he sang to us in his native tongue, which blended so well with the voices of passing gondoliers in their vessels. Beautiful buildings and magnificent bridges sailed past and over our heads, and sometimes a person on a bridge would stop and wave down at us with a smile, to which I eagerly returned.

Erik laughed. "You are too charming for your own good," he teased as I waved at yet another woman on a bridge. "If you keep winning over the locals, they might not let us leave Venice."

Laughing, I sat back into the cushioned seat and listened to our gondolier's song as we sailed through the canals.

* * *

It wasn't long before we reached the address of my grandmother, Lady Charlotte Woodworth. She had decided to visit here after Grandfather George passed on, and had never left, claiming that the weather was perfect for an old woman like her, and that the amusements of Italy were far richer and more relaxed than anything England could ever offer.

A surprised manservant came out to greet us, and to my surprise, Erik spoke to him in perfect fluent Italian. As the man disappeared into the house and brought out several others, I glanced at my husband with raised eyebrows.

"And when were you going to tell me that you were able to speak Italian?" I asked as he bent to assist me out of the gondola.

He gave me a rather playful and naughty grin. "Because it was more amusing watch you pantomime with our gondolier."

With a glare, I gave him a gentle slap on the arm. "That's not funny. You'll have to teach me the language while we're here so that I won't need you to constantly translate."

"But I am your humble servant, Madame," he insisted with a mocking bow. "And it would take an army to separate me from your side."

The last part had been said with great seriousness, so much so that I leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips, a kiss that Erik was more than happy to return.

A cough from behind me broke the moment, and I turned to see a disapproving Ellis standing there, hands on her hips as she frowned. "Really, Milady, you shouldn't do that in public. What will people say if they saw you like that?"

"They would say that she was a very lucky woman to have married such a good man," Nadir replied as he watched the servants attend to the baggage.

Ellis merely huffed and followed the burdened servants inside, not bothering to say anything further. Snickering, I let Erik tuck my hand under his arm and lead me inside.

* * *

Grandmama had a wonderful house filled with the sort of artwork that my mother would dearly love to have. Statues, busts, fountains, mosaics, murals, paintings, and furniture filled the entire place, all of it breathtaking. Erik and I were escorted past all of this to the parlor, where my grandmother was seated upon a mahogany chair with gold velvet cushions.

"Annabelle!" she cried, rising from her chair to embrace me.

I quickly released Erik's arm and ran to her, the two of us happily sharing a kiss and a hug before Grandmama noticed that there was another person in the room.

"Well, who do we have here?" she asked, closely eyeing Erik's tall form, much like a hawk eyeing an opponent.

Blushing, I pulled back from our hug and introduced them. "I'm sorry. Erik, this is my grandmother, Lady Charlotte Woodworth. Grandmama, this is Lord Erik Laurent of Paris. Erik is also my husband."

Needless to say, I'd shocked her. "Your husband?" she cried. "Why was I not invited to the wedding? Oh, Belle, do not tell me that you didn't invite your own grandmother to the ceremony!"

"Well, Grandmama, you see," I hung my head, bracing myself for her disapproval. "Erik and I have…eloped. We were married just outside of Bath, and took flight here in the hopes that you'll help us with telling Papa."

Now, my grandmother was not one to judge people until she heard the whole story. She had learned this after quite a few of her dearest friends had become the subject of London gossip and false stories, so she had become one of the few to not judge without all the facts. Therefore, it wasn't a surprise that she motioned for us to sit down and explain our situation to her over a light tea.

For over an hour, Erik and I explained our situation. We told of our love for one another, of Erik's proposal, as well as of my uncle, Sir James, and his reaction of to the proposal. We explained my fear of Papa's rejecting a union between me and Erik, and told of the Darcys' plan to help us elope. Finally, we spoke of our fear that Papa would track us here to Venice and attempt to bring me back to England.

"Your father will do no such thing," Grandmama firmly told me. "And I think it very bad of you not to write your father about this matter, Belle, for you know how much he loves and dotes on you. He would not have refused you the chance to marry for love instead of money or pure bloodlines."

Erik reached out and took my hand. "We feared that perhaps Lady Woodworth, your daughter-in-law, would believe Sir James's word over Belle's. After all, Sir James is brother to the present Lady Woodworth, and likely shares his concerns for money, power, and higher connections."

"And you know Papa tends to agree with Mama whenever she is upset and forces an issue," I put in. "He likes peace in the house, and sometimes agreeing with her is the only way to achieve it."

"Yes, that is true," Grandmama admitted, looking thoughtful. "Very well, then. You may both stay here with me. Goodness knows that this house is too large and empty for an old woman like me."

She and I exchanged another hug before Erik and I were dismissed to our rooms.

* * *

With an inward sigh of relief, Erik entered the suite of rooms assigned to him and Annabelle, and closed the door behind him. Turning back towards the room, he examined the space before him.

It was a truly Italian room, one filled with beautifully crafted furniture and elegant artwork. There was even a mural of a cloud-filled sky with winged angels on the ceiling. Fine china vases sat atop polished marble stands or wooden tables, and each vase was filled with fresh flowers, their scent perfuming the air. The windows were covered with heavy curtains to block out the morning sunlight, for this room faced eastwards towards the sun's morning path.

"Oh, Erik, come look at this!" Belle cried from the bedroom.

More than eager to please her, he hurried forward and stopped at the doorway in surprise. Before him was his wife, who was staring at the enormous bed in the center of an equally large room. The bed could easily fit four or five people and was covered in red blankets, the canopy surrounding it a slightly darker red edged in gold embroidery. Their luggage had already been unpacked, with some of the clothing lying draped on chairs near the bed.

"Goodness," Belle breathed. "How are we supposed to sleep in something so big?"

Slipping up behind her, Erik found himself grinning quite broadly. "I doubt that sleeping is what your grandmother had in mind when she gave us this room," he whispered into her ear.

Grasping his wife's waist with one hand, he slipped the other under her knees, carrying her as a man carried his bride over the threshold of their house. Ignoring Belle's protests, Erik swiftly moved to the bed and laid her down.

"I hope your grandmother has nothing planned for us this evening," he whispered, "for I have a very different idea of how to spend our first night here."

Belle burst out into giggles as he proceeded to lean down and engage her in a sweet kiss. After that, there were no more words.

* * *

The next morning, Erik woke to his wife's gentle breathing as she slumbered on his bare shoulder. Reaching up, he tangled his fingers in her loose hair, relishing the feel of silky strands slipping through each finger.

During their voyage to Italy, he had always woken up first, just to see if his marriage to Belle had not simply been a dream or hallucination. Seeing her peaceful face every morning assured him that she was his: Lady Annabelle Laurent, his wife in every way. She was his. He had claimed her their first night at sea, and every night afterwards, and with their signed and sealed marriage license, Lord Woodworth would be hard-pressed to separate them.

'_Besides, it's not as though she is not of age_,' he thought, fingers tangling themselves further into Belle's brown tresses. '_If she were under twenty-one, or even eighteen, there might be a chance of them taking her from me_.'

But Annabelle was a grown woman, and most certainly of age. Society knew that, as did the law, and even though she ran the chance of being forever ostracized from English society, the fact that she had married a French lord would probably be enough to carry her back into London's higher circles. That is, if she wanted to return there, which he hoped she did not.

A yawn from his wife's mouth blew a warm breath onto Erik's bare skin, pulling him from his thoughts. Glancing down, he saw Belle's eyes flutter open, revealing dazed brown eyes that shone with sleep and fading dreams. She was a charming sight to behold, and he wanted to show her that.

Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to her lips. Slowly, she returned it with a contented sigh as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, bringing them closer together. They lay that way for some time, enjoying the blissful air of being with the one they loved. As a ray of sunshine broke through an opening in the curtains, Erik pulled back and looked down into his wife's eyes.

"Good morning," he whispered.

She smiled. "Good morning."

There was the sound of paper slipping across wood, causing Erik to sit up and glance at the door. There was an envelope with a very thin seal, and was clearly meant for him or Belle. Groaning, he reached for his robe and slid out of bed to retrieve the note, carrying it back to Belle, who had sat up as well. Reaching her hand out, she accepted the envelope and slowly ripped it open.

"It's from Grandmama," she said after a moment. "She hopes that we are very comfortable where we are, and wishes us a good morning." Belle read several more minutes and smiled. "Apparently she wants to speak with us after breakfast."

Erik looked at her blankly as she got up and pulled on a robe as well. "Breakfast?" he asked.

Belle simply went to the bedroom door and opened it. Inside the sitting room of their suite, the furniture had been rearranged to make room for a breakfast table, which had been set by the windows. A covered silver tray sat there, along with a pitcher, a tall bottle in a bucket of ice, and several glasses.

The couple entered the room and approached the table. Belle lifted the silver cover as Erik examined the bottle and pitcher –the bottle was Italian champagne and the pitcher full of orange juice.

Turning, Erik was amazed at the variety of food that Belle had uncovered. Pastries slathered with fluffy cream, jam, or fresh fruit lay there. Apparently Lady Charlotte meant for her granddaughter and grandson-in-law to eat very well this morning.

"Well, it would be a shame not to help ourselves while it is fresh and hot," Belle said, taking a seat and waving towards the glasses. "If you would pour, Monsieur, I would very much appreciate it."

Smirking, Erik gave a mocking bow. "As you wish, Madame."

With a pop, the cork came loose, and golden-red champagne flowed into delicate crystal. Moments later, the two were raising their glasses in cheers and indulging in a very sensual breakfast, the sunlight streaming through the window warming them from the outside as their love did from within.

* * *

AN: More fun and drama coming next chapter! Hope to see you there!


	19. Matters of the Heart

Disclaimer: I wish that I owned dear Erik and all things _**Pride and Prejudice**_, but those characters already belong to someone else, and so are not mine. Only original people/places/things are mine.

AN: Okay, people might hate me for doing this, but I like throwing a wrench into the machine of my story, if only to make things more interesting. I hope people like the twists I'm putting in, but if not, please leave a review anyway to let me know how I'm doing. Thanks!

**Chapter 19: Matters of the Heart:**

Looking out over the gardens of her parents' house, Christine Day sighed. It was raining again, and she desperately wished that they had remained in France instead of returning here to Bath.

Their first trip to Bath had been exciting, with balls, parties, and assemblies every night. As an unattached young woman, Christine had been able to dance every dance, talk with many other unmarried ladies of society, and make dozens of friends. With these friends, she was often invited to teas, operas, plays, and concerts, which, in turn, put her in the way of other women who desired company while in Bath. And it was through these newfound connections of hers that Christine was introduced to the unmarried or widowed brothers of her friends, many of whom were delighted to meet a young woman with not only beauty and charm, but also a tidy fortune as her dowry.

Behaving as she had been taught, Christine flirted, smiled, danced, and talked with all of her admirers, but did not make it seem as if she thought much of them. This kept her female friends from accusing her of looking for a wealthy husband, which would surely have led to her downfall in English society. They were suspicious enough of her, since she was French and had few connections in the higher ranks of England. Since she kept a polite distance from the unmarried men, however, tongues were unable to wage at her expense.

Then, all of that changed. Raoul de Chagny arrived in Bath without warning, and using his good looks and aristocratic charm, he proceeded to sweep Christine off her feet. He pursued her relentlessly and passionately, begging for dances whenever they were at a ball or assembly, engaging her in long talks during dinners and parties they attended together, or taking her on long strolls and carriage rides through the park.

After a few weeks of quiet courtship, he began sending her tokens of his admiration, and it was then that Christine's parents, Monsieur Gustave Day and his wife Annette, noticed the Vicompt de Chagny's interest in their daughter. They immediately called him to the house and inquired of his intentions towards Christine. When he replied that he desired to marry her, all three members of the Day family were thrilled.

"Imagine, Christine as the wife of a de Chagny!" cried Annette, after Raoul had left to return to France and inform his family of his decision to wed.

That was something the Day family had been hoping for: Christine marrying well-above her born place in society. For generations, Gustave's family had been moderately rich, and Annette's had been of the same station, that of a family barely within the ranks of the French aristocracy. Their hopes were raised with the maturing of their daughter, when Christine began showing beauty, grace, charm, and the mind of a woman who could run a household with little difficulty.

"Who wouldn't want a wife such as her?" Annette had proudly asked her friends and husband.

And she had not only attracted Raoul, a Vicompt, but also a Marquis named Erik Laurent. The Marquis, practically a duke by English and French standards, was quite the conquest for a young woman of Christine's status, and had been the primary choice of both Gustave and Annette for their child's hand. After all, Erik Laurent was incredibly wealthy, his family could be traced back at least six hundred years, if not more, and his title would bring the entire Day family into the highest level of aristocracy in France. Due to the attention their daughter was receiving from Monsieur Laurent, both Gustave and Annette believed that their daughter would be Lady Laurent within the year.

Unfortunately, this was not to be. Gustave had fallen ill with gout, sent to Bath by his physicians, and the rest was history. Raoul had followed, Erik had not, and so to the winner went the prize, namely that of Christine's hand in marriage.

After Gustave had recovered, they had returned to France and announced the engagement of their daughter to Raoul. Regrettably, the engagement would have to be of some time, as Christine was not yet 18-years-old. The wedding would have be at least six months in planning, which Raoul and his family agreed to. With that settled, the females of both sides dove into plans for the dress, flowers, and for all of the legal matters to be taken care of by the lawyers. Everything began to move forward.

Unfortunately, Gustave's gout had returned, and Annette began feeling a bit poorly, so they decided to return to Bath in England, taking Christine with them.

"It's nothing too serious, my dear," her mother assured her. "We will go to Bath for a few months, bathe in the waters there and recover our health, then return to France just in time for the wedding."

The plan was a sound one, with Raoul's mother planning most of the wedding from the immense home of the De Chagny family. Christine's wedding gown was fitted and finished, her veil perfectly done as well, so there was no real pressing matter for her to remain in France while her parents were off in Bath.

To Christine's disappointment, her return to England was less joyful than she'd thought. She could not dance with others now that she was engaged, and with both parents ill, she was obliged to stay home and amuse them. And so, with more time to herself, Christine began to think about her engagement and her future as Raoul's wife.

Before she knew it, Christine began to have doubts about her choice. Not that anything was wrong with Raoul, of course. He was a fine man with elegant manners, a very handsome appearance, and he was sweet to her. He gave her very thoughtful gifts, doted on her whenever they were together, and had a lively sense of humor. No, there was nothing wrong with Raoul, except for one thing…

Raoul was not Erik Laurent.

Perhaps it was rather bad of her to desire another man while engaged to another, but Christine could not help herself. Erik Laurent possessed a deeper, somewhat darker and more serious soul than Raoul, and it had frightened her, at least at first.

From the moment they had met, Christine had been in awe of the Marquis Laurent, and his masked face had frightened her. The thought of what might lay behind the white porcelain sent chills down her back, but Christine had kept her polite social mask on and acted as though nothing were wrong. She danced with him, smiled, talked occasionally with him, and behaved as any well-bred woman would when speaking to a gentleman.

When it became clear that Monsieur Laurent was attempting to court her, she had immediately become worried. Christine had seen how tall, intense and focused he could be, and had been intimidated. That was why, when her Mama and Papa had insisted upon going to Bath, she had eagerly agreed, hoping to get away from the marquis. Then, when Raoul de Chagny had courted and proposed to her, she had accepted without hesitation.

Now, however, things were different. She missed the way Erik Laurent had looked at her with those marvelous green eyes of his, the mask adding a sense of danger and mystery to him. He had also been courteous, and the way he moved was like a great, dark cat prowling the room. Often, Monsieur Laurent had made her heart beat faster, though whether it was from fear or some other emotion had never been clear to her.

Raoul, on the other hand, was safer, in a manner of speaking. He was gentler, kinder, and sweeter than Monsieur Laurent, and his appearance was more of a golden prince than a sleek panther. Raoul was exuberant and cheerful, whereas Monsieur Laurent was quiet, serious, and thoughtful.

'_And of course, there is the matter of family and inheritance_,' Christine thought while watching the rain, the tiny drops creating little chimes as they fell against the glass.

Although Raoul came from a great and noble family, he was second in line to inherit the De Chagny fortune. His older brother, Philippe, was the Comte and head of the clan, now that his father was dead, and he was married. If Philippe had a son, then a majority of the De Chagny wealth would fall to him, not Raoul, and whatever money Raoul would have as a Vicompt was relatively small compared to what he would have had as an actual Comte.

Erik Laurent, however, was the only son of a great family. He did not give himself airs as most men of his position did, though he could be very intimidating at times…

Sighing once more, Christine went downstairs to dinner. Her parents were already there, and her Mama had a letter in her hands as she ate. This was rather odd, as breakfast was the usual time for reading messages, and Christine was instantly curious. She did not recognize the handwriting on the front, and decided it must be from one of her mother's old school-friends in France or London.

"Well, my goodness!" her mother exclaimed at the paper in her hand. "Oh, dearest, you will not believe it! Erik Laurent is here in England!"

Christine's heart began to race with excitement even as she tried to appear calm and eat her soup. "Really? How interesting," she commented.

"Yes, apparently he has been here for several months at least, and is connected with a very important noble family here, the Darcy family," her mother said as she read the note. "They might have gone to school together, is what I think, but that is beside the point. Apparently Monsieur Laurent has been much taken with a young woman in London, and has been paying her special attention. It is believed that he might ask for her hand in marriage."

Christine immediately lost her appetite.

* * *

It took no time to convince her mother and father that London would be a wonderful place to visit while they were in England, considering that it was the heart of all society here. Both Gustave and Annette had recovered from their respective illnesses, and were willing to visit the city for at least part of the social season. Besides, it was at least three to six months until Christine's wedding, and there was still much the Dowager Countess de Chagny needed to do before her son's marriage.

"And even though you are engaged, it would do you good to be out and about in London," her mother said with excitement. "A touch of English class would go quite a long way in preparing you to become a Lady de Chagny."

However, Christine had other plans for visiting London, none of them having to do with preparing for her marriage.

Holding tightly to her hopes that Erik Laurent would turn from the cold, formal Englishwoman he was pursuing, Christine believed that she could once again turn his head towards her and become his wife. True, she had accepted Raoul's proposal, but if Erik asked her to, she would gladly become Lady Laurent. She doubted that Raoul would pine for her, for there were many lovely young ladies in Paris, some with quite large fortunes.

'_But there is only one Erik_,' she thought that night as they walked through the London Opera House for tonight's performance.

Taking their seats in one of the private boxes, Christine heard loud whispers coming from the next box. There were two ladies gossiping about a couple that had apparently eloped some weeks ago.

"Spirited her away in a carriage in the middle of the night!" one woman softly exclaimed to her friend. "Stopped right in front of the Darcy house and away they went!"

The other woman gasped. "Goodness! Well, I shouldn't be surprised, considering he's French and all. But then, _I_ heard that he'd asked for Miss Woodworth's hand and was sent away with a refusal by the uncle, Sir James Cartwright."

"No!" breathed the first woman. "What was Sir James thinking? Refusing a Marquis the hand of his niece? I hope that Lord and Lady Woodworth gave him a good piece of their minds when they found out!"

"Well, it's not as though he _knew_ that the man was a Marquis of France before he refused him," explained the second lady. "He knew that the French gentleman was rich, just not _how_ rich and noble he was in the French aristocracy."

Her friend sniffed in disbelief. "Still, Sir James should have at least held off before passing judgment on the man." She sighed. "Not that it matters, anyway. I've no doubt that Miss Annabelle Woodworth married Erik Laurent before they even left Bath for wherever they are going."

Christine felt herself go pale. Erik had married an Englishwoman? What was he thinking? The English were so cold and distant, nothing like the warm, passionate ladies of France! Had he been that desperate for a wife after she had refused him for Raoul?

Quickly composing herself, Christine managed to sit through the entire opera without giving away her feelings. She was shocked, of course, but hopeful. Erik might be persuaded to leave this new wife of his through a divorce, for even though a divorce was rare and almost unheard of, it was possible. Once she was able to win him back to her, excuses for the dissolution of the marriage could be made and bribes paid to make things go smoothly. Even if Erik could not obtain a divorce through the courts, or by his wife's refusal, Christine was sure a permanent separation could be arranged between the two. The new Lady Laurent would move back to England, and Erik would return to France without worry. And when he did arrive at his estate, it would be with Christine on his arm, his wife in all but name.

All she had to do was find out where he was now and follow him there…

* * *

Yawning, Erik tried to keep an eye out for his wife, her lovely form lost amongst the throng of party attendees. Belle was somewhere in this colorful mass, and he was impatient to find her and hold her close, if only to be assured that some handsome Italian hadn't kidnapped her. One could never tell what these fiery Italian men might do.

"Goodness, my love, you look so serious," exclaimed a voice by his arm. "Do stop frowning, Erik, or you're going to scare half of the partygoers with that glare of yours."

He glanced over at his amused wife, brown eyes dancing behind the gold mask she wore. God, she was breathtaking, especially in that confection of gold silk and gauze that served as her masquerade costume. Gold ribbons threaded through her hair, and the bright pink color in her cheeks made her a glowing goddess of sunlight.

Erik, on the other hand, felt quite the opposite in his black outfit. It was all silk, of course, which kept him cool in the warm humid air of Venice. Silver trimmed the edges and hems of his shirt, pants, and tunic, as well as his mask, which covered the top half of his face, effectively hiding his scars. He was supposed to be the Lord of the Night Sky, and Belle had told him he looked dashingly handsome in it. From the way she and every other lady in the room was looking at him, Erik felt he must agree with her.

"I was frowning because I could not find you," he grumbled, reaching out to pull Belle into his arms. "You vanished after that crowd of very young, very loud masqueraders arrived, and I feared you lost to the charms of some Italian nobleman."

She laughed and stood on her toes to kiss him, which he happily returned. '_Thank God we're in a country where people don't care about displays of affection_,' Erik thought as he held her.

Slowly pulling back from their embrace, Belle gazed flirtingly up at him from behind her mask. "You are being silly," Belle teased him. "Why would I want an Italian when I'm married to a perfectly good Frenchman?"

"Too true," he muttered.

Three weeks they had been in Venice, and Erik really could not be happier. Each day he woke to the warm embrace of his wife, and each night she was there, lying right beside him. More mornings, they ate their breakfast alone in their room, glancing across the table as they ate Italian delicacies and sipped from elegant crystal glasses.

But they could not spend all of their days alone, for it would be very rude of them to ignore their hostess. Belle's grandmother, the Dowager Lady Woodworth, was eager for Erik to call her Grandmother Charlotte, and after their first morning together as a group at breakfast, she was happy to accept him into the family.

Belle, of course, was thrilled with Erik being in her grandmother's good graces, and even more overjoyed when Lady Charlotte invited them out into the social scene with her. She frequently took them shopping, sight-seeing, or to parties, balls, operas, and every other sort of entertainment she could think of. With each of these outings, both Erik and Belle were exposed to the astounding variety of art, music, theater, food, and drink that Venice had to offer, and they savored every moment of it.

For Erik, however, the greatest joy he felt every day was due to the look on Belle's face whenever she encountered something new. She would gaze at things with wonder, interest, surprise, or delight, and Erik found himself lost in those emotions as well whenever he saw her expression. It was as though he were seeing the world all over again through her eyes, and it was a marvelous feeling. He even went so far as to try a few peculiar Italian delicacies, such as calamari –although, after his first bite, he never wanted to taste the darned thing ever again, even in another dish. Belle had laughed at his expression and told him how brave he was, then kissed his cheek as a reward, which he felt was worth the experiment.

The balls, parties, operas and plays were very similar to English ones, though the operas and plays were all in Italian or Latin. Erik translated it all for her, something both he and his wife found enjoyable, especially because he always had to lean close to his wife's ear and neck. This created a rather seductive and intimate closeness that both he and Belle could not have enough of, and frequently indulged in.

Tonight was a very different one in the realm of entertainment. It was a masquerade, something England never had, though Erik had attended one or two in Paris. His previous experiences with masque balls were unlike the Italian version, as he now had a lovely lady to dance every dance with, instead of having to look for a partner at every turn.

"Shall we dance, Madame?" he whispered, holding his arm out to his blushing wife.

She smiled and accepted, letting him escort her onto the dance floor.

* * *

Here in the arms of my husband, I was completely in heaven. Gliding around the brightly-lit room, I spotted a few men eyeing me as though they wanted to whisk me out of Erik's arms and off into a dark corner somewhere.

'_Oh, dear, it looks as though Erik was right to worry about me_,' I thought, looking up into his green eyes. They were a dark emerald now, indicating that he was either angry or feeling another darker emotion.

"I hope your grandmother will not be upset with us leaving the ball early," Erik muttered.

Smiling, I fluttered my eyelashes at him. "Well, considering she left half an hour ago, I doubt it."

He grinned. "Good."

Waiting until the dance took us close to the front door, Erik proceeded to whisk us both out of the building, snatching my short cape and his cloak from a pair of waiting servants before signaling for a gondola to take us home.

The ride was brief, and the moment we were on my grandmother's dock, I was lifted into Erik's arms and carried upstairs to our room, giggling all the way.

* * *

Downstairs, Charlotte Woodworth heard her granddaughter and grandson-in-law laughing as they went up to their room. It was about time Belle found someone who suited her; if Catherine had her way, the poor girl would be a spinster, and it was clear Robert was of no help in that.

Well, it was time she wrote a long, lecturing letter to her son to give him a piece of her mind and let him know what was going on. Perhaps Charlotte would even get through to Catherine, though she highly doubt it. Still, it would not hurt to scold them a little, and if both Robert showed up on her doorstep, quite possibly with her daughter-in-law, then all the better. The air needed to be cleared, and Belle allowed to live her own life as she saw fit.

Ringing the bell, Charlotte called for her writing desk. She had a great deal of work to do before dawn, and that wasn't far away.

* * *

AN: Sorry there wasn't much of Erik and Belle in this chapter, but I hope everyone was content with what is here. This story will be ending soon (not sure when), and then it's off to the next one. Hope you enjoyed and will review!


	20. Facing the Truth

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything from _**Pride and Prejudice**_ or _**Phantom**_, even though I wish I did.

AN: This story is almost over everyone! Just a few more chapters, and that's it. There probably won't be a sequel, but I'm still stumped as to what I'll do next for the realm of Phantom stories. Oh, well, I'll think of something. Anyway, enjoy the chapter, and please review! Thanks!

**Chapter 20: Facing the Truth:**

A month or so after she'd heard of Erik's elopement, Christine was sure she was close to discovering where he had gone. Some said Paris, but Christine doubted that; her Mama would have heard of Erik's arrival there through her friends in French society, and then would have told Christine all about it the minute she got word. Besides, France was too obvious, as it was Erik's homeland and where his estate was.

Erik. She had begun calling him that rather than Monsieur Laurent only recently, believing it was only right for her to do so and accustom herself to it. After all, once she found him and persuaded him to cast off his dull English wife, they would call one another by their Christian name. Besides, Erik was such a good, strong name, just like the gentleman attached to it.

As she moved about the minor aristocratic circles of English society, Christine envisioned what life would be like as Marquise Laurent. She had never been to the Laurent home, but had seen it from afar, and had been awed by the size and majestic air it had.

From what she could remember of social gossip, it was said to have a glorious rose garden tucked safely behind the house. This was so that the Marquis and Marquise (his wife) could walk privately and enjoy private moments together, occasionally stopping to smell the flowers. There was also a maze for walking through, and a large pool covered with water lilies and glorious fish swimming about in the cool waters.

Best of all was that the entire property had a great deal of woodland surrounding it. Trees of all sorts grew there, and animals and birds dwelled beneath their branches, making it ideal for the lady of the house to host hunting gatherings and parties.

Letting her imagination run away with her, Christine pictured herself descending the grand stairwell of the Laurent manor on Erik's arm, clad in a glorious gown of silk, lace, and satin. Her hair would be pulled atop her head, the curls artfully falling around her face and back beneath a tiara or coronet. Best of all would be the glittering jewels at her throat, ears, and wrists, all of it befitting a marquise.

'_Even if he is unable to divorce his wife, I could still become something that is almost a bride_,' she thought while brushing her hair out at night. '_A mistress who has the heart of a man is practically his wife, and French society won't care, as long as I prove myself to be a good hostess and give Erik heirs to his estate and titles_.'

Poor Raoul would be unable to see and speak to her while he nursed a broken heart, of course, but once he managed to find a wife who suited him, everything would be alright. Perhaps, if Christine did things right and spoke to Erik about it, their two families could arrange a union between their children. How wonderful would that be for everyone? Such an alliance would be spoken about for years!

But first, she had to find Erik. And one day, her luck showed itself.

Gossipers are the same in every country, and it was through listening in the local tea and coffee shops that Christine managed to discover where Erik had been for so long. Unfortunately, it was a very long journey there.

"Venice, Italy," it was said by everyone. "They've gone and run off to Italy, and you know what those wild Italians are like."

It was perfect. Annette Day had always wanted to visit Italy, and her husband was always eager to please his wife, so when Christine innocently mentioned a longing to visit Venice and to see their opera houses, both of her parents became excited and eager to go.

"You will have a well-rounded education in multiple societies before you're wed," her mother exclaimed excitedly. "French, English, and Italian. Oh, goodness, the de Chagny family will be thrilled to have you for a daughter-in-law!"

Of course, how was Mama to know that it wasn't Raoul or his family Christine was trying to win over with her actions?

* * *

It took weeks of travel by sea to get to Venice, and by then, Christine was more than happy to see land. She had been ill the entire voyage, barely keeping down her food and sleeping most of the day away, emerging occasionally for the needful bit of sunshine to give her pale skin a touch of color. Her mother and father had worried after her the whole time, hovering over her and running to fetch anything and everything she needed the moment she asked for it.

Finally, they arrived, and Christine was happy to sleep in a fine bed in a fine hotel. She spent several days regaining her strength, eating lightly at first, then consuming slightly heavier food with each meal until she felt her normal self. When that happened, she put her plans into action.

It took little time to find out anything about Erik; there just weren't that many masked Frenchmen wandering around Venice. Apparently he was quite well-known amongst the Italian aristocracy for having excellent taste in music, art, and books, and had attended numerous parties and masquerades since arriving in the city.

However, to Christine's annoyance, everyone who spoke about Erik also mentioned his wife, Belle. Well, the woman's name was actually Annabelle, but everyone close to her thought of her as Belle because that was what Erik called her. Apparently the new Lady Laurent was pretty, charming, and quite amusing to be with. She laughed, made jokes, talked of anything and everything with intelligence, and danced very well. In fact, she was as popular as Erik was.

And it was that bit about Lady Laurent that was so very vexing. Whoever heard of an Englishwoman being so warm, sweet, and open in such a way? Why, she was acting like a lady of France would in society, not in her proper English ways at all! Wasn't it always said that the people of England were all stuffy and formal, not bothering to enjoy life to its fullest?

'_What business is it of this Annabelle to behave so outside the traditional English character_?' Christine silently vexed to herself as she brushed her hair one night. '_It's no wonder Erik was ensnared by her_.'

If Annabelle had put on such a face to Erik, then that would explain everything in regards to their elopement. With her acting against the cold formality of London society, Erik would have latched on to the only warm and welcoming young Englishwoman in the entire town, falling into supposed love with her, then running off to marry her once her family forbid it.

'_Clearly Erik was not thinking or acting rationally_,' Christine assured herself. '_After all, I had just rejected him, and this woman was the only one available to him in the first place. Thus, he carried her off, married her, and came here to Venice_.'

But all that would change very soon. She would be able to convince Erik that his marriage wasn't what he wanted, and that he should be free to have another as his wife, or at least his beloved mistress. When he saw the truth of the matter, he would welcome her with open arms. Of that she had no doubt.

* * *

Yawning, Erik stretched himself out on the couch and smiled in contentment. It was late afternoon, almost early evening, and he was waiting for his lovely wife to come downstairs from their bedroom. Grandmother Charlotte (as she had asked him to call her) was taking them to a dinner party that night, and Belle wanted to look her best.

'_Even though she always looks lovely_,' he thought with a smile.

And of course, Grandmother Charlotte had been exceedingly good to them. Her house was warm and welcoming, and she was one of the finest hostesses he had ever encountered. She set a fine table for them whenever they dined at home, her library had a wonderful collection of books ranging from educational to fanciful, and she was always willing to sit and talk about anything and everything. It made Erik very glad to have her as part of his family.

Smiling, Erik turned his head and looked at the tiled mural on the parlor wall. Ever since his hunting accident, he never thought that he could be this happy and satisfied with his life. Sometimes he woke up in the morning and believed it was all a dream, that he had never met his Belle and would be back in his bed at the Laurent estate with nothing but himself and his servants in an echoing house.

The sight of Belle sleeping beside him each morning was a welcoming one, and proved that love had indeed happened to him. Hopefully it would not be long before his fears stopped showing themselves.

Closing his eyes, Erik began to imagine his house full of noisy shouts, pattering little feet, and innocent laughter. Now that he thought about it, the Laurent manor had always been good for raising children…

A knock at the front door jerked him out of his dreamlike haze. Who could possibly be visiting at this hour? The time for fashionable visits was long over, and everyone in town would be at home getting ready to attend parties, balls, or the theater. Perhaps it was a servant coming with a letter for Lady Charlotte?

Rising from the couch, Erik made his way to the partially open parlor door and listened. The female voice filling the hall was familiar…

"I am here to see Monsieur Laurent."

Peeking around the door, he bit back a curse. It was Christine.

* * *

She knew that the servant did not wish to admit her, but the butler could not stop someone who was clearly a lady of high class. Since Christine was dressed in a lovely gown of white muslin covered with lace and adorned with pink satin ribbons, she was every inch a lady.

"Mr. Laurent is unavailable, Miss," the man said in a British accented voice. "If you would like to leave a card, however…"

Christine ignored him, her attention arrested by the sound of movement in a partially open doorway to her left. Stepping around the butler, she boldly stepped forward, the heels of her shoes echoing as she strode forward. Nudging the door open with her hand, she saw Erik himself in the middle of the room, a look of surprise and anger on his face. The surprise she had expected, but not the anger, though perhaps she should have.

"Hello, Monsieur Laurent," Christine said, keeping her voice soft but sweet.

Erik ignored her greeting. "What are you doing here, Christine?" he snapped.

Oh, he looked wonderful! So tall, dark and handsome in his black coat and red vest, the white of his mask adding to his air of mystery. When his hands reached up so he could cross his arms over his chest, she noticed the sparkle of gold on his left hand – his wedding ring.

Biting back her dismay, Christine put on her most charming and sweet smile as she approached him. "I wanted to see you," she said in a soft voice as she walked. "I wanted to see you again and tell you so many things that I had not the courage to before I left for Bath all those months ago."

He was eyeing her with suspicion now, but before Erik could say anything, Christine stepped forward and put her hands on his arms, her head tilting back as she leaned up and forward to kiss him.

She received the shock of her life when he stepped back and pushed her away, a look of anger and disgust on his face.

* * *

Pulling himself away from Christine's touch, Erik knew it was mad of her to think that she could come here and win him with a few words and kisses. And where was Raoul de Chagny, her fiancé? He very much doubted that the young Vicompt knew what his pretty betrothed was up to.

Thinking about the matter at hand, Erik suddenly wanted very much to know what Christine's plan was. She had never been like this before: a woman trying to use her best assets to snare a man. What did she want him for when she had her handsome, golden-haired Vicompt waiting to marry her? Christine had made her choice clear many months ago when she had begun paying far more interest in Raoul's courtship than Erik's.

Focusing hard, Erik tried to think of what he had that Raoul de Chagny didn't. There wasn't a great deal, actually: both were in the prime of their lives, were both of good family and wealth, and were good-looking in their own ways.

'_Except my estate is far larger than anything Raoul will inherit_,' he realized. '_A marquis looks much more appealing than a Vicompt_ _who is a younger son that might not inherit the family titles_ _and wealth_.'

Putting a great deal of safe distance between him and the young woman, Erik began to wonder how he could have ever loved a girl such as Christine Day.

* * *

Christine knew this was not what should be happening. Erik should be happy to have her there, offering herself to him just as he'd wanted when courting her. She had given him the smile that had always made him willing to do anything for her, touched him as a woman touched the man she loved, and all he did was back away. What was wrong?

"I ask you again, what are you doing here Christine?" Erik snapped, green eyes turning hard and cold. "Not to mention why you are here in Italy when you should be in Paris, planning your wedding to Raoul de Chagny."

She tried not to wince at the mention of Raoul's name. Instead, she moved forward again, trying to get closer to Erik. "I'm not going to marry Raoul, Erik," Christine softly told him in her most persuasive voice. "I saw that I chose the wrong man to marry. I should have chosen you, not Raoul. He is not the one I love, it is you."

"I made a mistake, Erik," she said with tears in her eyes. It was a good weapon, especially as most men could not stay furious at a weeping woman for long.

To her shock, he merely snorted in disbelief and sneered at her. "So you toss aside the feelings of one man in order to try and pursue another. How incredibly selfish and childish of you, Christine. I'm glad that I managed to escape a future as your husband. Who knows what sort of torment I would have gone through had we married and you decided to throw it all away to chase after another man."

By now, Christine was terrified. Her plan to win Erik wasn't working, and she couldn't imagine why. Yes, she had hurt him, but now she was trying to change that by coming to him and proclaiming her love. He should have softened at the sight of her tears, admitted that he felt the same, and then the two of them should now have been planning how to help Erik escape his marriage to that English wife of his.

'_After all, it isn't as though he's in love with her_,' she thought. Is he? No, it was impossible.

"Erik, please," she pleaded. "I made the wrong choice, and I'm sorry."

"I certainly hope so," snapped a feminine voice from the doorway. "You shouldn't have come here, Miss Day, and I would like for you to leave my grandmother's house at once."

Christine whirled around in surprise. There was a young woman in a very fashionable, low-cut gown of shimmering red satin, the bodice fitting perfectly to her lovely curved figure. Her brown hair was pulled up into a bun that glimmered with red and gold ribbons, and set before the bun was a beautiful tiara sparkling with rubies and diamonds. Around her neck was a necklace that matched the tiara, and on her left hand was a gold wedding ring set against a diamond engagement ring.

Holding her head up high, her face flushed with anger, there was only one person this person could be: Annabelle Laurent, Erik's wife.

* * *

Erik was torn between thanking God for Belle's appearance and being horrified at being caught in the same room as Christine. He knew what this might look like, and feared that Christine's foolishness would cost him the one thing he cherished most: Belle. There were stories about heartbroken wives and what they did to themselves after discovering their husbands with another woman. He could not risk losing his wife because of Christine's childish fantasies.

Even now silly girl was trying to convince him of her feelings and the emotions she believed he still felt for her. "Erik, please," she was saying. "You can not forget how you cared for me not so long ago. I could make you so happy, far more than your English wife can."

That was the last straw. If there was one thing Erik could not stand, it was someone speaking poorly about his Belle.

"Christine, you will leave this house and never return," he demanded in his most authoritative, commanding voice. "And you will never contact me again in any way. This may be difficult for you to believe, but I have no love for you now, nor have I ever loved you. What I felt for you was a mere desire for a wife who could be a companion to a poor, scarred, lonely man."

Erik looked the young woman straight in the eyes and continued, "However, you may rest easier knowing that your rejection of me for Raoul brought about my journey to London, and thus my encounter with my beloved Annabelle. I have found someone to love and who loves me unconditionally despite my titles and wealth."

He turned a softened gaze towards his wife. "And I would not trade that for the world."

The sight of Belle's dazzling smile and bright eyes lifted his heart and spoke of things words could never begin to capture.

* * *

No, this could not be. He actually loved this woman? True, his wife was pretty, and held herself with a noble, but kind, manner that most women spent years perfecting, but surely that could not be why Erik desired to remain with her. It was absurd!

However, in the sensible part of her mind, Christine knew that she had lost him the day she had accepted Raoul's proposal, if not sooner. From the start, Raoul had seemed the best choice: handsome, rich, titled, sweet, and adoring towards her, she had been swept off her feet almost at once.

Erik had been different. Darker, mysterious, cold, and wearing that mask, he had been frightening, but appealing to something deep inside a woman that made her long for him. He had almost appeared dangerous, and it was that sense of danger that made her both fear and desire him. In the end, however, she had made the safer choice of Raoul's courtship and proposal over Erik's.

A war raged within her, and Christine honestly didn't know what to do now. Something told her to keep trying, but a larger part, the more sensible part, told her to run back to her parents' suite in their hotel and forget this ever happened.

Suddenly, a warm, gentle hand came and rested on her shoulder. Looking down several inches, she was astonished to see Annabelle standing there with a look of compassion on her face.

"I know that look," she said with a small, sympathetic smile. "My friend had it before she married. I saw it for many weeks before the wedding, and you have it on your face. You are engaged to that young man, Raoul, aren't you? And due to marry him within a few months, am I right?"

At Christine's nod, Annabelle proceeded to gently pat her on the shoulder. "You are young, quite a bit younger than I am, and are frightened of what the future brings for you as a wife. You are afraid that you made the wrong choice and are second-guessing your acceptance of him, even though I am sure that you care very deeply for your Raoul."

Yes, Christine did care about him. And she _was_ nervous about the wedding, but then, she was also worried about what the future would hold for them if Raoul did not inherit much money from his family. Where would they be then?

'_But the money he will have exceeds anything Mama and Papa have now_,' she realized far too late. '_Raoul's family is great and wealthy in their own right, thanks to the investments of his clever father and brother_.'

Burying her face in her lace gloved hands, Christine began to weep. She really was foolish and selfish. She had only thought of herself, imagining things that could never be were possible, and set out to destroy not only Erik's life, but that of another woman who had done her no wrong. Her mother and father were going to be so disappointed in her! And Raoul! What would he say if he found out of this?

"No weeping," Annabelle said firmly, jolting Christine out of her tears. "Tell your parents – and if necessary, Raoul – that you came here today just to wish Erik joy on his marriage, and to ask for wedding advice from me. I doubt they will question you much after that."

She was right, and Christine knew it. If only she'd seen this before, while she had been in Bath and not here in Italy.

Erik cleared his throat. "You had better leave, Christine," he said in a slightly gentler voice. "We have dinner plans, and Lady Woodworth is very firm about punctuality."

Sniffing, she nodded. Not saying a word, she gave a small curtsey and fled, praying that the knowledge of her actions would not go further than this room.

* * *

I sighed with relief, ready to collapse onto the couch and close my eyes for a moment. However, I did not get the chance, for at that moment, Erik pulled me into his arms and kissed me. We stayed that way for some time, until a butler knocked on the door and announced that the carriage was waiting, as was my grandmother.

Reluctantly pulling apart, I looked up at my husband. "What was that embrace and kiss for?"

He rubbed the tip of his nose against mine. "For being such a wonderful, clever woman," he whispered into my ear.

I laughed and shook my head. "It was merely an observation," I replied. "She was terrified of what her future would be like, I could see it in her eyes. My friend was the same way before her wedding: crying, wondering if she was doing the right thing in marrying her fiancé, wondering if he was indeed the one she loved, etc. It was madness, but afterwards, she was glad she went through with it."

Erik chuckled and held me close as he gently led me from the parlor and into the marbled hallway. "I am certainly glad you did not go through that when we married in England."

I blushed. "Well, actually, I did sort of panic before we said 'I do.' I thought you might have changed your mind and had regrets about wanting to marry me."

"Never," he said firmly while watching Ellis help me into my cloak. Once the cloak was tied around my neck, he leaned forward, pressing his lips against my ear. "And to prove it, I will show you how much I adore you, my love, once we are safely behind closed doors in our room."

Shivering, I let him escort me out to the carriage, my mind spinning with what my very affectionate, and very doting, husband might be plotting for later this evening.

* * *

AN: Longer chapter this time; I hope everyone enjoyed it. This story is almost over, and the last chapter should be up soon, which will then be closely followed by the epilogue. Keep an eye on my bio page to see what might be written next! Thanks, and please review!


	21. When Things Come Full Circle

Disclaimer: I wish that I owned dear Erik and all things _**Pride and Prejudice**_, but those characters already belong to someone else, and so are not mine. Only original people/places/things are mine.

AN: I know, it was kind of stupid and quick the way I got rid of Christine, but I thought a bit more conflict in the story would make it interesting towards the end. Even though Christine's out of the way, however, there's still one more hurdle left for Erik and Belle to jump. Read on, and please review at the end! Thanks!

**Chapter 21: When Things Come Full Circle:**

The day after Christine's untimely appearance, I woke feeling marvelous. Erik had indeed lived up to his promise of showing the depths of his feelings for me, and as a result, we had both been up quite late. From the faint slant of sunlight coming into the room, it had to be late morning, or possibly noon. No doubt Grandmama would be wondering where we were.

'_Or possibly not_,' I thought with a smile. After all, she had been the one to give us a suite of rooms some distance in the back of the house, away from the servants and her own quarters.

Closing my eyes, I felt a light pressure against my stomach and sighed in contentment. As was his habit, Erik slept most of the night with his arm around my waist or shoulders, depending on how we both fell asleep. I think it was because he feared I would run away in the night, though I had been doing my best to persuade him that would never happen.

A flurry of knocks on the bedroom door jolted me awake, sending me sitting bolt upright in an instant. Well, it would have, had Erik's arm not been around me, pinning me down to the bed. Beside me, he stirred and growled in annoyance.

"I thought your grandmother and I had ordered them not to interrupt us while we were still abed," he grumbled, burying his face in the space between the pillows and my hair.

I reached up and slowly petted his hair, an act that sometimes soothed him, though I also did it for my own benefit. Erik had the most luscious black hair I had ever seen, and one of my most favorite things was to comb my fingers through it. From the almost purring sound he made when I did, I think he enjoyed it as well.

Pressing a kiss to his temple, I noted that he was mumbling in French and chuckled. "It must be important for them to interrupt our rest," I whispered to him. "We should get up."

"No," he said, raising his head. "They should wait until we are ready for them, and I am most certainly not ready to receive visitors, guests, or anyone else right now."

There was an angry pout on his lips, which I thought adorable. Leaning forward, I gave a quick kiss even as I giggled at his frustration. He attempted to return and deepen the kiss, but I pulled away before he could. Again his pouted, clearly in a vain attempt to bring another kiss to him.

I shook my head. "I'll dress and see what it is they want."

He sighed and collapsed back into the pillows of the bed, muttering curses under his breath. I simply laughed and went to dress.

* * *

Despite his frustration at being woken up, Erik was ready by the time I emerged from my dressing room. I had chosen a pale peach muslin dress, with a slightly darker sash wound around my waist. Peach ribbons were woven into my hair, and I added a touch of perfume to freshen the air round me as I moved. Erik liked it when I wore perfume.

Speaking of my husband, he was dressed in a light coat of pale gold, with matching breeches and light brown leather boots. The rest of his clothing was white or a shade darker than his coat, which set off his dark looks and green eyes beautifully. I told him so, and smiled as he preened.

"You look lovely, just as you always do, my dearest," Erik commented, reaching out to take my hand in his and bring it to his lips.

I giggled as he led me to the door and opened it. In our private parlor was a flustered manservant, who had a distressed look on his face.

"Mr. and Mrs. Laurent," he said, quickly hiding his feelings behind a polite mask. "Lady Charlotte is much desirous to see the two of you at once. Apparently a message from your father, Lord Woodworth, has arrived, and she is eager to share the contents with you."

Almost instantaneously, I could feel the blood drain from my face the same moment Erik wrapped a strong arm around my waist, holding me up when I would have fainted. The servant looked alarmed and worried, possibly afraid that he had caused me to become ill from distress. Erik saw the man's expression and waved for him to keep back.

"My wife is merely shocked at the message you've brought her," he said, keeping his voice calm but firm. "Please tell Lady Charlotte that we will be down in half an hour, once my wife has recovered."

Relieved, the servant bowed and fled as fast as he could while still looking dignified. Had I not be so fearful of my father's letter, I would have laughed at the sight. As it was, however, I was fortunate I had not fainted in sight of a servant, which would have been quite embarrassing.

A strong arm encircled my waist and another went under my knees as Erik lifted me into a bridal style carry hold, his feet hurrying us to the nearest couch. There he gently set me down before rushing off, returning moments later with a damp, cool cloth for my head. He folded it, placed it atop my forehead, and softly pressed his hand there to keep it from moving about.

Kneeling at my side, Erik looked at me with great concern as he whispered, "Are you alright? Do you need anything? Some wine to steady your nerves, or should I ring for a maid to bring you something?"

I couldn't help but smile at him. "I'm fine," I assured him, placing a hand on his arm to try and sooth him as he was trying with me. "It was just a shock, that's all. I'm sure I'll be well very soon, and then we can go talk to Grandmama about the letter she received from Papa."

It did not take me long to recover from my shock, and within twenty minutes, Erik was escorting me to my grandmother's parlor, where a servant announced us and showed us in. Grandmama was seated on a chair near the fireplace, and wore a deep violet gown, which made her silver-gold hair glitter beautifully. Purple feathers as long as my finger decorated the carefully pinned up curls, giving my grandmother a look of elegance and beauty, even in her advanced age.

As we entered, she greeted us with a warm smile and asked us to sit, which we did. Since Erik and I had not had breakfast, a lovely tea was brought in, along with all sorts of Italian pastries filled with all sorts of things, such as fruit, meat, vegetables, or cream. Although I was nervous about my father's letter, I managed to eat and drink something, though it was mostly for Erik's sake, since he was watching me rather closely, obviously afraid that I might swoon into a faint at any moment.

The dishes were cleared away after we finished, and then we three were alone. When the door finally swung shut behind the maids, Grandmama gave me one of her famous intense looks.

"Annabelle, darling, I must tell you that I wrote a message to your father some weeks ago, and have finally received a reply," she said outright. "Apparently he, and to a lesser degree, your mother, desires you to return to Huntington Hall as soon as you are ready to travel."

Once again, I went pale. "Papa wishes for me to return to England?" I whispered, unsure as to whether I had heard correctly. "He has forgiven me for eloping with Erik?"

Grandmama waved her hand, seeming to brush aside my words. "Yes, yes, he has forgiven you, and probably did so the moment he got over his surprise and anger at your actions, which probably lasted about five minutes. When shall you write him about going to England?"

Erik and I looked at one another, unsure as how to proceed. "It might be best if you wrote to him, beloved," he said softly. "You are his daughter, after all."

I looked over at my grandmother. "Do you not think it would be best if _you_ wrote him?" I pleaded. "You are his mother, and he will listen to you, as will Mama, who rarely listens to anyone."

Grandmama looked thoughtful. "Yes, perhaps you are right," she admitted. "Catherine always was difficult, to say the least, and if you were to write to your parents, I have no doubt a rather scathing reply would be made on her behalf. No, you are right, Belle. I will write to your parents and tell them that you will be going to England in a month or so. Will that do?"

It most certainly would.

* * *

From that day forward, both Erik and I were very anxious as we awaited my parents' reply to Grandmama's letter. We tried to attend dances, balls, parties, and the theater, but these all failed to distract us. The only comfort we had was each other. Erik tried to do his best to sooth me, and in his attempts, I discovered many things about him that I had not known before.

Erik was a musician and an artist.

First, he had displayed his musical talents. It had happened one evening when I was not feeling well and desired to stay home, tucked away from the outside world. Grandmama had left to attend a gathering of her friends, leaving Erik and I alone with the servants.

We had been in the room that served as both a library and music room in the house. Tired of reading a novel I had no interest in, I had become bored and in need of something to fill the echoing silence of the house. I jokingly voiced my complaint to my husband, who had been sitting on a chair, and almost at once, Erik rose from his seat and moved towards the piano, sitting down upon the long bench and stretching his fingers out upon the keys.

And then, beautiful music filled the air around me, lulling me into a light doze from which Erik had to wake me from an hour later.

After that, he played whenever he thought I was troubled or needed a distraction. Sometimes he would even sing or hum in a deep, soulful voice that sounded as though it belonged in the theater with thousands listening to it. I thought it wonderful that he could play and sing, and Erik told me he had learned from his former nurse and governess, Antoinette Giry, who was presently ruling the Laurent estate in his absence.

"She thought I should be a bit more educated than other men, and had me instructed in art as well," he said one night, after we had gone to bed. "I can also paint, draw, and if forced to, sculpt a rough image or two, but those will be for your eyes alone, my darling."

I thought it wonderful that he had such abilities, since mine were so lacking. I played reasonably well, but could not draw or paint at all, and told him so. Erik merely blushed and said that his skills were not remarkable, but I insisted that he practice his painting and drawing instead of allowing them to go to waste. In the end, he agreed, but only if his work was of me, and I found myself the reluctant model of my husband's art.

Days passed by much easier after this. For several weeks, Erik and I spent much of our time together, Erik either painting or drawing images of me while I sat and played the obedient model. We would talk, laugh, joke, and tease one another for hours, only stopping for meals and the occasional rest period, so that I could move my legs and Erik rest his hands. I would later discover that all of his finished paintings or drawings were sent to his estate in France, with instructions to place at least once piece in each room of the house.

We were having such fun that we forgot all about the letter we were expecting until the day it arrived.

* * *

Glancing over towards his wife, Erik reached over and took her hand in his, an act that immediately drew her attention to him. She gave a hesitant smile, then returned to looking out the carriage window, her face pale in the golden sunshine.

Belle's distant behavior worried her husband. She had been like this since receiving that message from her father several months ago, and it had taken a great deal of effort on Erik's part to keep her distracted and happy.

On that day, Erik had been in the midst of finishing a portrait of his wife when a servant tapped on the door of the little morning room, which Lady Charlotte had given to him for his work. They had been summoned to Grandmother Charlotte's private sitting room, as a message from Huntington Hall had just arrived.

Belle had instantly looked ill, and as he led her upstairs, Erik believed that the support of his arms around her was the only thing preventing his wife from collapsing on the stairs.

The moment they had entered Lady Charlotte's room, Erik and Belle had immediately been told that Lord Woodworth would be expecting them in less than two month's time.

"Apparently your father is eager to see you and meet your new husband," stated Lady Charlotte as she looked upon her granddaughter's pale face. "You are to leave on the next ship bound for England, and after you land in London, you are to send a message to your father and he will send his carriage for you both."

And so it was. Three days later, they were at sea, and a month or so after that, they landed in London. Much to Erik's surprise, although the voyage had been mostly pleasant, Belle had been incredibly ill during their travels. She was always pale and nauseous, kept little food down, and slept a great deal. Ellis, who was traveling with them along with Nadir, refused to leave her mistress's side, and constantly had to chase Erik out of his own cabin when she felt he was interfering with her helping Belle regain her health.

They had landed in London on a cool, foggy morning, which Belle didn't seem to mind, claiming that the chill and fog helped clear her head. The moment they set foot on solid ground, Erik had led them to the nearest fine inn and settled his poor wife into a decent bed with her maid by her side.

It had taken Belle three days to fully recover, and when she did, Erik was sure it was mere nervousness that caused her to look so pale. After all, here the four of them were, riding in a carriage sent from Huntington Hall for their comfort, and it didn't look as though anyone was enjoying themselves.

Right now, though, after hours of travel, they were finally arriving at the house known as Huntington Hall. As the carriage pulled up to the front of the grand house, Erik was surprised to see a large gathering of people there to meet them. Servants, of course, two long rows of them fanning around their masters and mistress in several neat rows. It seemed as though every servant available was here to see them. And, of course, the Woodworth family was there as well.

Meanwhile, Belle actually seemed to have recovered a bit of color back in her cheeks. She even lowered one of the windows in order to slip her head out and wave frantically at someone on the front steps, a young man who appeared to be trying to dislocate his shoulder in order to give them a warm welcome.

"Belle, what are you doing?" Erik blurted out in shock.

She turned to look at him, though she kept her head out the window. "It's Nathan!" she said, as though it explained everything.

He looked at Ellis, who grinned. "Her younger brother," the maid replied to his silent question.

Oh. Well, that certainly explained everything.

With a slight jerk, they halted before the grand steps that led up to the doorway. The tall man dressed finely in aristocratic clothes could only be Erik's father-in-law, Robert Woodworth. He resembled a young Henry VIII, in that he had red hair, fair skin, and was quite tall and fit for a man of his age. To Erik's relief, Lord Woodworth had a warm, welcoming smile on his face, openly declaring his honest and pure joy at seeing his daughter again.

Beside him was a dark haired, dark eyed, petite woman that must be Belle's mother. She had a touch of exoticness to her face, which managed to even out the cool, slightly severe look and air she bore. The deep blue dress she wore did nothing to soften her looks.

Finally, the brown haired, brown eyed young man with a broad grin on his face had to be Belle's beloved younger brother, Nathaniel. She had rarely spoken of him to Erik, but he knew it was mostly from the pain of possibly never seeing him again. From the distant look she got whenever she thought of her brother, it was clear that Belle loved him very much, and missed his company.

The footman opened the door to the carriage and bowed them out, though Erik was sure that he had just given Belle a sly wink as Erik assisted her out of the carriage. He also saw her amused smile and slight nod, which he took to mean that this was a long-standing joke between them, and let it go.

"Belle!" cried Nathaniel as he raced forward, ignoring his mother's protests to be civil.

Releasing his wife's hand, Erik stepped back and watched as his wife reunited with her family.

* * *

Sighing, I leaned back on the large bed, looking around the room provided for me and my husband by my parents. It was a suite of rooms, actually, one that I had never been permitted in before, since Mama always feared something valuable would be broken by her wayward children.

It was in the usual modest English style of muted colors, with pale blue and white in the drawing room, and a dull gold with white in the bedroom. It was very calming, and I welcomed it, though I was sure I would be missing the vibrant Italian rooms of Grandmama's house soon enough.

Giving another sigh, I thought back to my reunion with my parents and brother. After Nathaniel's enthusiastic greeting, Papa had joined him in giving me a welcoming kiss and hug, whispering into my ear how much he had missed me these months past. I pressed a kiss to his cheek in agreement.

Mama's greeting was slightly colder, but she said nothing too scathing as she came to welcome me. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Erik watching my mother very closely, and thought that he would do or say something harsh. He did not have to, however, as the intensity of his gaze seemed to force my mother's words into the back of her throat.

After that, things only became better for us. Papa rushed us into the house, the servants took our outdoor clothing while Ellis and Nadir ran upstairs to unpack our belongings, and then Erik and I were shown into the bright morning room, which was filled with sunshine and the scent of fresh flowers that were set about in lovely vases.

Once the greetings were done with, we sat there, drinking tea, lemonade, or water and nibbling through trays of light food as we talked about everything that had happened since I left for London. I was informed of local gossip and news, and how things were with my family in London. It turned out that they were all well, despite my elopement; Aunt Josephine had fainted, and Sir James had been furious, but since they discovered my marriage was to a French marquis, they quickly returned to their old selves.

Later that day, as Papa and Nathaniel went on and on about how wonderful it was that I had come back to Huntington, Mama looked as though she desired to scold me for running away and not writing to her and Papa first about Erik's proposal. However, with Erik there, she did not do so. I think that perhaps he intimidated her a little, the way Fitzwilliam Darcy did before he had met and married Elizabeth. I know that with one little glance, both Darcy and Erik could halt people mid-sentence and cause them to turn away from them, flustered and a tad bit frightened of them. It was the sort of thing that would serve us well while we were here.

After Erik and I had explained what had happened from the point of our elopement to our return to England, we were shown to our rooms and told to rest, for there would be plenty of time to talk in the morning. I was never so relieved to be alone again with my husband, who did everything he could to make me comfortable and happy in our new accommodations.

The next morning onwards, life at Huntington went even better than when I had first lived there. Mama, who was still a bit intimidated by Erik's tall, dark and mysterious presence, kept her opinions to herself, especially after learning of his heritage and titles. After all, a marquis is still a marquis, whether he is French or English.

Papa had instantaneously accepted us back into his good graces, and was delighted to have me home again. Anticipating my moving to France with Erik, Papa was able to have me to promise to visit at least twice a year. I was more than happy to give my word to that, particularly since he and Erik got along so well. I think my husband would be more than happy to visit England for Christmas, for the sake of family. Erik told me that he had met few men as warm and accepting as my father, and that he respected Papa very much for that.

"For he is not only kind, he is a fine, exceptional man and master of his house," he said to me one night. "And I believe your brother will turn out much like him, which speaks a great deal as to his parenting skills."

As for Nathaniel, who had always wanted an elder brother, both he and Erik were friends immediately. As an only child who had been orphaned early in life, Erik had been quite lonely growing up, and had now been pushed into the roll of elder sibling. I often spotted Nathan pulling Erik aside to ask for advice about things he was probably too embarrassed to talk to Papa about, and thought it a good thing that they were forming such a good friendship with one another. It made them both open their hearts a bit, and that could only help them become more comfortable in the world.

"Beloved?" called Erik through the door, his voice full of concern. "Are you awake?"

I had been feeling rather tired and a bit poorly lately, alarming my poor husband to no end. He had had my father summon a doctor today, after I had been unable to keep my breakfast down, and had left me alone to sleep before and after my examination. I would have thought he would stay to interrogate the doctor as to what was wrong, but instead he had gone out on horseback to try and steady his nerves with a good horseback ride.

"Come in," I called back.

The door gently opened and Erik slipped inside, the mask on his face doing little to hide his worry. Moving slowly and carefully, he joined me on the bed, stretching out beside and slightly above me so that he could look down into my eyes.

"What did the doctor say was wrong?" he softly pressed, his voice full of anxiety. "You are not very ill, are you? Perhaps that time at sea was not good for you and we should travel by land in order to return to Italy."

Smiling, I reached up and touched the smooth side of his face with my hand, thankful that my family had not mentioned his mask even once during our visit. That would surely have made my poor Erik suffer, though the news I had for him would surely raise his spirits straight into the heavens.

"My dear, there is nothing wrong with me," I assured him, unable to keep the joy from my voice. "It is only natural that a woman feel ill when she is with child."

Green eyes stared at me for a moment, right before he leaned down and pressed a sweet, loving kiss to my lips.

* * *

Oh, Lord in Heaven, she was with child! He was going to become a father! How was it possible for a man to be this happy in his life?

'_We shall return to Paris at once_,' Erik thought as he kissed his wife repeatedly and began humming her to sleep. '_We shall send our apologies to Lady Charlotte about not returning to Italy, though I'm sure she will forgive us, once she knows about her great-grandchild_.'

As Belle drifted off to dreams, Erik looked down at her and gazed longingly at her stomach. He truly could not wait to watch his English rose burst into bloom as the child within her grew. Placing his hand on his sleeping wife's belly, he knew it would be a glorious sight indeed.

* * *

AN: The epilogue will be up soon, I promise. Oh, and keep an eye open for my next Phantom story involving not only Erik, but the fantastic members of the Justice League! It'll be a modern fic, but it'll still have our beloved Phantom doing what he does best. (winks) In the meantime, please be kind and review! Thanks!


	22. Epilogue

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything from _**Pride and Prejudice**_ or _**Phantom**_, even though I wish I did.

AN: This is it, the end of the story! Thank you so much to those who read, reviewed, or both! I hope that everyone enjoyed themselves and will keep an eye open for my next Phantom fic. If I'm on your Author's Alerts, then you'll definitely know when I next post. Anyway, enjoy this final chapter and please review! Thanks!

**Epilogue**:

Looking into the sparkling green eyes of my children, I smiled and cooed sweet nothings to them, making them gurgle in delight. Beside me, Erik laughed when he saw them smile at me, their little fists waving back and forth as I rocked the special double cradle they lay in. Barely six months old, both Maria and Etienne were the most darling and clever children that any mother could ask for.

"You spoil them," Erik told me as he reached into the cradle and picked up his daughter, rocking her as she waved her hands back and forth in delight. It was a darling thing to behold, and I never tired of seeing it.

Smirking up at him, I replied, "I have every right to, considering what I had to go through carrying them."

My first few months of breeding were very difficult for both me and Erik. He wanted very much for me to give birth at the Laurent estate in France, but I feared the travel there would be too hard on our unborn child. Papa offered us one of the more elaborate suites of the house for us to stay in until the baby was born, and I wanted to accept, but Erik was determined _not_ to have our child born under the eyes of my mother.

Finally, after two weeks of arguing with my very stubborn husband, I relented to travel to France, though Ellis did not like it one bit. She mumbled complaints while she packed my things, and thought it terrible that we were traveling while I was in such a delicate condition.

"It's just common sense that you should be resting when you're carrying a little one," Ellis frequently muttered when she thought I couldn't hear.

Thankfully, the journey to France was not too difficult, though I constantly worried that the jostling about would not do me, nor the baby, any good. However, the sea voyage across the Channel was smooth, and the carriage that met us in France was Erik's personal carriage, well-made for travel and rough roads. Thus, we made good time with little difficulty. However, I was still very much relieved when we arrived at Erik's estate.

Etienne gave a small cry at being separated from his sister, and I quickly scooped him up. "Now, darling, it's alright," I softly cooed to him. "Papa's got a good hold of Maria, don't worry."

When both babies were quiet, Erik and I gently put them back in the cradle and watched them fall asleep. After several moments passed, we both went to our separate desks in the room, Erik to his and me to mine. That was how we had rearranged the study after the children were born: Erik with his space to do his work running the estate, and mine for writing letters for our family and friends back in England.

The rest of the house had been changed as well to accommodate the arrival of the twins. The grand ballroom (fit for a hundred people or more) was kept securely locked, with only the maids going in and out, and the same could be said about the formal dining room for parties. This was in anticipation of the children learning to crawl in the future, and we had decided to be careful now rather than too late in the future.

In a full opposite, the library, parlor, and Erik's private study were fitted for the raising of children. Since these rooms were not open to visitors, there were several areas set up for the little ones to play, sleep, and when the time came, walk. Heaps of toys, blankets, and clothes lay in the corner, making it more homelike, which Erik found very appealing.

"I was growing tired of seeing so many perfect rooms go to waste," he had told me once. "I almost never entertained here when I was grown, as I had no wife to organize parties or balls, and Madame Giry detested such gatherings, so we never had them here. With you and the twins, this house will feel much cozier and more lived in."

Smiling, I settled down into my chair and looked out the window at the vast rose garden, so large that it had a flower in every color you could imagine. They were planted in patterns, making it perfect for a walk in the spring or summer, when the air would be warm and filled with the heady scent of a thousand roses. Beyond it was a lovely maze, the hedges trimmed to knee-height so that, if a person became lost, they were able to trace their way out by following the little walls. An army of gardeners were needed to keep all of this perfect and lovely, but I could see it was worth all of the money and effort.

I almost laughed when I saw Madame Antoinette Giry, the woman who had raised Erik into adulthood. To my surprise, she had become fast friends with Ellis since my arrival here with my maid. At that time, Madame Giry had decided to stay at the Laurent estate instead of retiring as she should have, now that Erik was married and had me to run the house.

"And what would I do when I leave here?" she retorted when Erik offered her a fine pension and a home in Paris as a thank-you gift for all of her hard work. "My daughter is grown and married, I've no desire to work for any other family or personage, and immersing myself in dull tea parties and such does not appeal to me in the least. No, I had much better stay here and help future generations of Laurent children grow up as fine as those before them."

And so, Madame had stayed, helping me to become adjusted to life in France.

Although I already spoke French fairly well, I was still untutored in French mannerisms, and began to learn how to address French nobility, how to eat French foods in the proper way, and which French servant was for which task. When she was not tutoring me, Madame had helped sew clothes for the baby while Ellis knitted and stitched all sorts of blankets, hats, and scarves. Thanks to our hard work, I doubted that both Maria and Etienne would need clothes for a while.

There was a knock on the study's door, but a soft one. The staff knew better than to knock loudly, just in case the twins were asleep. I turned to see Ellis rush in, a blush on her cheeks as she handed me an envelope.

"It came by special messenger from Italy, Ma'am," she said. "Your grandmother, Lady Charlotte, sent it with one of her Italian servants."

Ah, that was why she was blushing. Apparently, Ellis had become interested in a tall, dark, handsome Italian servant at my grandmother's home, but had not thought it serious at the time. Since we had left Italy almost a year ago, moving on to London and then here to France, she had probably not expected to see him again. How fortunate it was that the young Italian was determined to find my feisty, determined maid and marry her. Not that Ellis guessed his thoughts, but I knew that no man would travel so often to and from Italy, just to carry messages on both my behalf and my grandmother's. It was only a matter of time before Ellis realized what her persistent suitor's plan was for their futures.

My maid then handed me several more envelopes. "And these just arrived from England, milady," she said. "From Pemberley, Huntington, and the de Chagny estate."

"Thank you, Ellis," I said warily, wondering what my parents and the de Chagnys wanted this time.

With the birth of the twins, Papa had been overjoyed and had sent a great deal of money, toys, and clothing, begging for me to tell him every little thing that his grandchildren accomplished as they grew. Ever the dotting grandpapa, I knew that he wanted to be the first to give the children their own ponies when they were old enough to ride.

Nathaniel was nearly as thrilled about being an uncle as Papa was about being a grandfather. In fact, Nathan had rushed to France the moment he had found out about the births, and brought with him the stack of toys that Papa had purchased for them. He had stayed over a month, babbling nonsense to the newborns and promising to get both Maria and Etienne a new puppy when they were older.

Meanwhile, Mama simply asked me to say 'hello' to the children whenever she wrote. I did not care about her lack of enthusiasm, however, for my love for my children would more than make up for my mother's lack of interest.

As for our dearest friends, the Darcys, they were as eager to write and hear news of us as my father and brother. Erik and I had written of our adventures in Italy, and both Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth had been thrilled to discover that I was with child. When I had told them of bearing twins, Elizabeth had done the same as Nathaniel, rushing herself and Fitzwilliam here to France to see me.

Our time together with the Darcys was reminiscent of when Erik and I had first met. We talked, laughed, and joked as we had before, only with far more interruptions. Every time a baby cried, two or three adults leaped from their chairs to go running towards the upstairs nursery, where Ellis was busy trying to do her new duties as nursemaid to the twins.

To thank them for all they had done for me and for Erik, I had asked the Darcys to become godparents to the children, and was thrilled when they accepted. It also helped that both children took a special liking towards Elizabeth, and that Fitzwilliam was surprisingly good at handling babies; Maria could not get enough of him holding her, and often gripped his fingers tightly whenever I tried to take her away from him.

Setting aside the letters, I made a note to invite my parents, my brother, and the Darcys here for the twins' first Christmas. Madame Giry would know how to make the occasion festive and memorable.

Opening the letter from the de Chagny house, I bit back a sigh. Since I had moved to France, Christine had done her best to try and become friends with me. She invited me to parties, balls, teas, the theater, and any other social event she could think of, believing to be doing me a favor by exposing me to French society.

However, I could not forgive or forget what she had tried to do in Italy, and refused her invitations as often as I could. This was because, on the chance Erik and I bumped into the de Chagnys in public, Christine would often try to stop me for conversation about married life, almost as though she were comparing hers with mine.

That sort of talk often frustrated me, and I tried to turn all conversation away from our husbands and their estates, but it was difficult. Sometimes it seemed as though Christine were trying to assure herself that she had made the right choice in marrying Raoul, although it was clear she had. Raoul de Chagny was perfect for her: sweet, doting, kind, and quick to give his wife everything she asked for. It was also obvious that he loved her dearly, and everything he did was to make them both happy. In most eyes, it was a very good match, even if Christine felt confused about it.

A warm breath caressed my neck, and I knew that it was Erik standing behind me. "What troubles you so, my love?" he whispered as one of his arms slid around my waist. "You're scowling."

Sniffing in amusement, I set aside Christine's long and windy shopping invitation. "Nothing that matters," I answered. "I'll write my reply tomorrow, though I don't know why I bother. I should just throw all of her letters away the moment I get them."

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to my forehead before helping me to my feet. "Christine is still a child in many ways, my dearest Belle, despite her mature body. Like most children, she has difficulty making a decision, and when she does make a choice, she typically changes her mind very frequently."

Lifting my left hand to his lips, Erik placed a lingering kiss on my wedding ring. "I am glad that I had escaped her when I did. If I hadn't, I would never have met you, my delightful English rose, nor would I have two beautiful babes sleeping so contentedly in their cradle."

At that moment, those two babies woke up, crying for their meal. Laughing, I went to pick up our daughter while Erik fetched our son, both infants squalling to be fed. Ellis rushed in, recognizing their cries, and took Etienne so that I could feed them in the privacy of the nursery. Giving my husband a brief kiss on the lips, I went upstairs, cooing to Maria while ascending the steps. Behind me, I could feel Erik grinning like a fool in the middle of the library.

Life was good.

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AN: The end! I hope you all enjoyed and will review. I don't know when the next story will be up, it'll probably be a while, since I've got a bunch of research I have to do, but hopefully it will be up soon. Thanks again to all my readers and reviewers, and I hope to see you all soon!


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